


Time takes a cigarette

by Barry_Manilows_Wardrobe



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abusive Parents, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Beginnings, F/M, Falling In Love, First Time, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Male Friendship, Marauders' Era, Pining James, Pining Sirius Black, Sassy Lily Potter, Sexy Remus Lupin, Slow Burn, jily, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-02 23:21:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 39,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13328562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barry_Manilows_Wardrobe/pseuds/Barry_Manilows_Wardrobe
Summary: A scholarship boy, the heir of Potter Industries, the son of the first female judge in the UK, and a goddamned Earl.Hogwarts had worked with less.





	1. Chapter 1

**1971 September (First Year: 11-12)**

_Remus_

It was Remus who assured Mam and Nain that he would be fine for the ten months he would spend away from them at Hogwarts College.  “It’s only three months to Christmas,” he reminded them with the bravest smile he could manage.  Remus wasn’t feeling particularly brave in the Great Hall of Hogwarts College. Surrounded by parents and pupils and teachers.  But he didn’t want to set off his mother’s anxiety.  It had been a very big deal when she decided to take Remus to College.  She did not like leaving the farmhouse in Bleven, often telling Remus: _I’ve seen enough of this world, thank you very much_.  But she had risen and washed and put on her best yellow dress.   _I want to see fy machgen_ _off_.

His father, who with Taid had too many things to do to drive to College with Remus, had taken him aside and said, “You watch over your mother, Remus.  And don’t let anyone make you feel small.  You’re the equal of any.”  Then occurred the hand off of ten pounds with a wink.  While the money would be whispering tales to any other boy Remus knew that they couldn’t afford for him to hold onto such a bounty.  He’d worried about it all the way to Scotland.

They’d stayed overnight in an inn over a pub called the Leaky Cauldron.  Although excited, Remus wasn’t allowed to venture down by himself.   _It’s not a place for boys._  At the College his mother held Remus’ hand in a death grip but finally had to release him.  Taking a knee, she smoothed his hair, “I love you so much, Remus.  Be a good boy.”  The mid-morning sunlight streamed through her blonde hair, the same color as Remus’.  Her bright blue eyes watched him until she and Nain had had to leave him.  

He carried his own case to the dorm he’d been assigned.  The case had belonged to Nain and still had her initials on it: **_MNY._ **  Unlike most public schools, the Kings’ Scholars at Hogwarts were evenly distributed in dorms with paying and legacy scholars.  So it was that Remus ended up in a room with a) the son of Evelyn Pettigrew, the first female judge in the UK, b) _the_ heir of Potter Industries, and c) a Goddamned Earl.  He had only ever seen a peer once.  Baron Hughes.  A stout old man who came around once with his hunting dogs and startled the sheep.  This one was smaller, knobbier around the knees, and pasty as milk.

In his College kit (bought a size up to account for growth) and his only good shoes, Remus had a feeling this was not going to go well.  The tie felt itchy around his collar and he was sweating.  Potter had a trunk the size of his bed and no less than ten uniforms.  Pettigrew had brought his own record player.  And the Earl - whose name was Sirius - had a man named Kreacher putting his things in order.  

Remus, who had only one other uniform, a couple of pairs of play clothes, and two books (outside of other sundries), put off unpacking until he absolutely had to.  Potter, who had emptied his pockets, left at least £100 in small notes on his bedside table as if it were nothing.  

Unfortunately, as there was really nothing to do after supper, it turned out that Remus unpacking became the evening’s entertainment.

“Oi, you!”  Potter said sitting on his bed, sorting through his wad of cash.  When Remus didn’t immediately respond (not realizing he was the ‘you’ in question), Potter then said, “Hey _Scholarship_!”  It was clear he was the ‘you’ so being addressed at this point and turned around.  He’d _earned_ his seat at Hogwarts fair and square and had no shame in it.

“Yes?”  Remus, having spent the entirety of his life speaking Welsh at home and English in school, had an obvious accent that he'd not yet had to lose.  Subsequently, he said ‘ya’ more than ‘yes.’

“I’ve ten pound missing.”

The Earl watched from his bed, fiddling with curtain tassels.  His eyes were a queer grey color that made Remus uncomfortable.  Peter’s lips had gone tight, his cheeks pink.

“And?”  Remus was perplexed as to how he had anything to do with it.

“Turn out your pockets.”  Potter said it as if he had every right to be obeyed.  Remus could feel his face get hot.

“No.”  Remus said with an unfeigned dignity.  He was as honest as the day was long.  

“I know you took it.”  Potter paused and then added, “ _Welsher_.”

Remus was thin and sharp and the oversized uniform made him look small.  But he had grown up on a farm, working since he’d learned to walk, and had had the fear kicked out of him by a goat at six (he still hated goats).  He looked Potter straight in the eye and squared his shoulders.  Potter had about two inches and twenty pounds on him.   But Remus had tipped an eighteen stone ewe (Old Molly, a bully of the ruminant variety) for shearing and Potter was significantly lighter.  Remus hoped it wouldn’t come to fists.  But he also didn’t like what Potter was insinuating.   “I didn’t touch your money.”  

From the look on Potter’s face it was obvious that no one had ever challenged him in his life.  Spoilt, rich, and arrogant.  He noticed that the Peer - Sirius - had pushed himself up off the bed and was watching.  Pettigrew had turned to watch, worrying his hands.  Potter and the Peer had come to an understanding earlier in the day upon discussing Football Clubs.  Sirius’ Uncle owning one and Potter’s family apparently having Footballers round for dinner.  They were also second cousins, once removed.  Peter had yet to make his allegiance known opting to suss out the other boys.  It didn't look like either was going to join in.  Yet.  

“I don’t like thieves,” Potter said, drawing out the word as if he had all the right in the world to judge the Scholarship boy.  “And I don’t like _liars_.”

Remus could feel the anger shoot to his face and making his head fuzzy.  “I wouldn’t touch anything,”  Remus said, low and shaking with anger, “from a _posh arse_.”

Potter sprang off the bed and walked until he was directly in front of Remus.  “I _said_ turn out your pockets.”

Remus refused to do so. Potter was close enough that Remus could smell the pudding on his breath.  And then Potter pushed him.  He continued to do so until Remus’ knees hit the side of his bed and he stumbled back.  

“That's enough!”  Pettigrew said with shaky determination.  “You don’t know he took it!”

But Potter was on Remus.  Remus attempting to protect his clothing to the detriment of his face, while Potter’s open hands rained on his cheeks.  Potter was a poor fighter, but he managed to land a knuckle to Remus’ left eye that had him seeing white.  All the while Potter was trying to get into Remus’ pockets.

He’d forgotten about the £10 note his father had given him until Potter had it.  He’d slipped it in his mother’s pocket and she must have returned it.  “What did I tell you?”  Potter said, holding the bill aloft for Peter and Sirius to see.  “They’re all the same.”

With tears in his eyes, Remus turned and brought Potter to the ground by kicking out his knees. The dark-haired boy went flying and crying out as he did so.  “ _Haliwr_ ,” Remus spit out before pinning Potter and pummeling him.  Potter tried to protect his face from Remus’ blows, but unlike Potter, Remus knew how to make a fist.  If Sirius and Peter hadn’t caught Remus’ arms and dragged him bodily off Potter he would have probably knocked him unconscious.

When they were certain Remus was calm enough Pettigrew walked him to his bed and sat with him.  He was short, round boy with light brown hair and a very open smile.  After a while, Peter even looped an arm around his shoulder that Remus did not bat away and said, “My name is Peter, by the way.  And I don’t care that you’re Welsh.”  It was a ridiculous thing to say and Remus surprised himself by laughing.  But just a little.

Sirius, meanwhile, walked towards Potter’s bed, where a £20 note had managed to get under his bed.  He picked it up and dropped it unceremoniously on Potter’s chest.  “Bad _ton_ , Potter.”  Walking back to his bed, Sirius and Remus made eye contact before Sirius closed his curtains on the whole thing.

 

\---------------------

 

_Sirius_

Sirius stayed awake for a long time after his three roommates had gone to bed.  Potter was a bully.  And God, new money.  How graceless to just leave money out for show.  But Sirius was used to people like Potter.  As a peer, his primary had been full of them.  He hated it.  But it wasn’t like he had a choice in the matter.  Pettigrew seemed to be a nice enough boy, He had stood up to Potter for Lupin.  Who he didn’t even know.  

Lupin had made Sirius feel very small.

He had first noticed him in the Hall where all the new students had been dropped off.  Sirius’ mother, whose name he hadn’t known until he was eight on account of everyone calling her Lady Black, had drawn his attention to the boy after commenting on Lupin’s mother.  “What an uncommonly beautiful woman.”  Lady Black never said anything without intent and Sirius could read the disdain her voice.  He thought she was a nice looking woman in a yellow dress and holding her son’s hand.  Sirius had been more taken by the fact that a boy his age would hold his mother’s hand in public.  He could not remember ever doing so.  The Blacks would never countenance such a thing.

Sirius had been sorted into Gryffindor House and he wasn’t sure how Lord Black would take it.  His father had been in Slytherin House as well as most of his family.  He had a cousin in 7th year, Andromeda, who was in Ravenclaw House.  He was hoping his parents would not be too angry.  

Potter was a distant cousin of his and they had met once before at a Puddlemere United match.  Sirius’ uncle, Alfie, owned the team.  

Pettigrew was from a middle-class, albeit prestigious, family.  He had never met anyone from the middle-class.  Although he supposed, upon reflection, that Father’s solicitor was.

And the boy from the Hall, Remus Lupin, had also been sorted into Gryffindor House and their dorm.  It was painfully obvious that he was a Scholarship student.  While Kreacher had sorted his things, Sirius had taken in the single case, the overlarge uniform, and the stiff shoulders.  Sirius understood being uneasy and had seen it written all over Lupin.  At supper they met the rest of Gryffindor House, a collection of peers and commoners.  Sirius noted that there were at least two other Scholarship students in the House.  One a red-haired girl and the other a boy from Manchester named Glenmore Williams.  Sirius had only learnt his name when Lupin had asked, having shaken off from his roommates to sit with him.  

Like with like, Sirius supposed.

It was during the altercation when Sirius began to feel small.

Potter had tried to put Lupin in his place and Sirius had done nothing.  Instead it was Pettigrew who’d defended Lupin.  And then the boy himself who had taken Potter down as if he were nothing.  He _had_ roused himself to help Pettigrew peel Lupin off of Potter.  Lupin’s small but strong arms struggling against them.  If he had not agreed to be pulled away, Sirius didn’t think he and Pettigrew could have done it.  

Someone had alerted the Gryffindor Prefect who had then taken the boys to their Head of House, McGonagall.  They’d returned with detentions, ice packs, and cold silence.  Potter refused to apologize.  Lupin had quietly finished unpacking.  Pettigrew had grabbed his things and gone to the showers after Potter.

Although it was a communal shower it was only shared between eight boys and warranted stalls rather than an open room.  Sirius waited until it was very late before he went himself.  He wasn’t particularly shy, but did not want anyone to see the welts on the back of his thighs.  

He was under the warm spray when Lupin entered the showers.  “Oh, I thought I had the shower to myself,” Lupin said, seemingly surprised to see Sirius there.  “I can come back when you’re done.”  He seemed uncertain and had colored.

Sirius spit out soapy water and wiped at his eyes.  “No, it’s okay.”  He thought he had turned before Lupin had seen anything.  Particularly as he was looking everywhere but at Sirius.

Lupin hesitated and then seemed to come to some sort of a decision.  His eye was already swollen.  He had a number of scratches on his neck from Potter and a fading bruise on his right hip.  They showered in complete silence.  Lupin perfunctory and Sirius messily.  

For the next couple of weeks, except for the night when Lupin and Potter had detention, it was the same sort of thing.  Sirius waiting until everyone else had showered or if only Lupin was there.  They said nothing to each other after a polite inquiry as to whether they minded the other using the shower.  The bruise on Remus’ (Sirius had started thinking of Lupin as Remus) hip had healed, his eye now circled in yellow.  Sirius’ obvious welts had gone as well and no one was ever close enough to see the fine white scar lines.  If Remus had ever noticed the red welts, he never mentioned it.  

During first term, Remus had chosen to pal around with Glenmore, Lily Evans (the red-head), or Peter.  He was friendly (except to Potter) and thoughtful with laughing green eyes and always a joke.  

Peter and Remus had had a running pun between them for a week: _Yesterday, a clown held the door open for me._    

_Oh?  That’s a nice jester._

_That was a trapezey one._  And they high-fived.

It was so stupid it was actually funny.

People liked Remus.  Sirius liked him.  He wanted Remus to like him back, to actually be his friend instead of just a polite roommate.  But he didn’t know how.

As a Black, his instinct was to buy him.  Pockets full of Honeydukes chocolates or an extra tie from the Canteen.  Other boys had reacted well to this inducement at primary.  But the chocolate had been returned, the tie thought misplaced.  And Remus had asked that Sirius stop making free of his bed for storage.

  
\-----------------------

 

_Lily_

During her first week at Hogwarts Lily learned three things.  She was excellent at Maths.  She was going to fail Latin.  And she hated James Potter.

Lily, a King’s Scholar, had come to Hogwarts from Cokeworth by rail.  It was the longest trip she had ever made and her mother, Edina, had packed food for the trip  She was unable to come as she worked sales and could not afford to miss a shift.  Petunia, her half sister, had actually cried when she left her.  This was rather heartening as they didn’t always get on.  “Don’t worry, Tuney, I will see you at Christmas.”

Her father surprised her with a chocolate bar while on the train.  Mum was very strict with sugar.  “What your mother doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” he said in a conspiratorial voice.  She would never tell.  “Beside, I heard that the food at public schools is awful.  Peas _every single_ day.”  Lily’s father had left school at 16.  He always explained that his was not an example to follow. _Education is important, Gingersnap_.   _You don’t want to be like me_.  But Lily didn’t see what was wrong with being like her father.  He was a successful mechanic who was well respected and could take the time to bring her to Hogwarts.  He drove a motorcycle and listened to the Rolling Stones.  

Neither of them had been to Scotland and they made a weekend of it.  They went to Loch Ness, where Dad was _certain_ he had seen the monster, and spent the night with a second cousin who stuffed them full of lamb and cabbage.  He left Lily, rather grudgingly, in the Hall at Hogwarts, having carried the lime green suitcase up to her dorm for her.  “Don’t forget to write, _Gingersnap_.  Or your mum’ll have the Home Guard after you.”

The next day, after meeting her dorm mates who all seemed very nice, was a meeting of the King’s Scholars with courses to begin the following Monday.  There were twelve of them, four girls and 8 boys.  One of the boys, whose name was Lupin, had a black eye.  He was sitting next to another boy, Glenmare Williams, with close cropped black hair and very white teeth.  She recognized a boy from Cokeworth who had been in her primary and motioned for him to join her and another girl she was sitting next to.  Widad was from Glasgow and wore a hijab.  After a short speech on the great tradition they were now a part of they met the Headmaster, Dumbledore, and the King’s Scholar advisor, a Mr Slughorn.  Afterward, they were set free for lunch and then joined the general population for various inaugural events.  Sev was in Slytherin House, Widad in Hufflepuff, and Lily in Gryffindor.

“May I sit with you?”  She asked the blond, Lupin, who had also been sorted into Gryffindor.  Outside of the black eye he was actually quite good looking.  He was sitting with Glenmare Williams and a pink-cheeked boy named Peter who was eating bacon.  Lupin made room for her on the bench.

“Glenmare you know.  And this is Peter.  Pete’s one of my roommates.”  At that moment, a large wad of mushy peas hit Lily in the back of the head from the end of the table, where a boy (also with a black eye) sat surrounded by girls.  Some of which were Lily’s own roommates.  Lupin and Glenmare jumped up at the same time to help her clean off, although neither wanting to touch her.  Lupin sighed.  “The twat with the glasses is my other roommate, Potter.  I am so sorry about him.”

Angry, Lily gave Potter the finger and then tried to to clean herself off.  “Hey, hey GINGERSNAP!”  Potter was calling from his seat at the table.  

Lily got a detention for cracking a plate over his head.  

 

\---------------

 

_James_

For the entirety of his life, the star in which all existence orbited was James Potter.

He was Flea and Euphemia Potter’s golden boy, their only child after decades of trying for one.  He was the apple of his grandparent’s eye as the only grandson.  His nurse told him daily that he was her “special boy.”  All the Potter’s staff, from the chauffeur to his mother’s social secretary adored him.  His nursery school friends had been carefully selected for him by birth and proximity.  He was handsome and clever.

In short, James had grown up _knowing_ the sun shone out of his arse.  And acted accordingly.

So coming to Hogwarts had been something of a shock to the system.  The James Potter system.  

His family had attended Hogwarts since the early 19th century.  His great-grandfather, Peverell Ignatius Potter, had given a lot of money to the College.  His grandfather, Harold Cadmus Potter, later Baron Peverell, had laid the foundation for the new Greenhouses in the 1920s.  He had expected adoration, respect, and preferential treatment (although he would have never thought of it as preferential).

But things were not as he’d expected.

First, though he was rooming with his second cousin, Sirius, the Earl of Grimmauld had taken a dislike to him after a _slight_ misunderstanding with the Scholarship boy.  He’d barely said a word unless it was critical.  

Of course, he also seemed to treat everyone else the same.

Secondly, while he _might_ have been mistaken about the Scholarship boy taking liberties with the pocket money his father had supplied him, he had certainly never expected him to thrash him.  He had never had an argument that ended in fighting.  Someone (usually his Mother) was always around to diffuse those sorts of things.  Frankly, he was a little intimidated by Lupin.   _And_ he had the gall to refuse his apology.  Even while they were given detention together for the whole affair.  James had _never_ had to write lines before.  Nor had he _ever_ been scolded by his parents.  

Pettigrew seemed alright.  He was chummy with Remus.  But at least he was speaking to James.  He never turned James away when he looked for a seatmate in class though he took his meals with Remus.

And there was the fact that, not surprisingly, he was quite popular with the other first year girls.  But the one girl he wanted to notice him wanted absolutely nothing to do with him.  He had singled her out especially to prank, above all other girls, and she had not been even a little impressed.  She had broken a plate over his head!  And her best friend was a small, seedy looking boy in even worse College kit than Lupin.

About a month into term, James was still perplexed as to how to handle things with Lupin and Lily Evans.  Sirius, he had managed to sway to his side by gluing 50p coins to the floor outside of the Latin rooms when he _should_ have been heading back to the Gryffindor dorm.  Watching students - and more particularly Lily’s friend - try to pick them up had been the highlight of his week.  Sirius had been impressed that James had been able to glue 100 50p coins to the floor with no one noticing.  But he had also demanded that James make right with Lupin.  “We don’t mess with our roommates, Potter.  It’s not done.”  Whether it was done or not, he considered Sirius the final arbiter of such things.  He was, after all, an Earl.

Lupin wouldn’t accept money.  James had tried that right away.  He had only taken his £10 back and hid it somewhere.  He didn’t want any class help as it turned out he was smarter than even James (who thought he would be the cleverest first year).  He wouldn’t touch the care packages Euphemia sent which James magnanimously offered to his roommates.  He didn’t seem to notice that James had left the last slice of chocolate pudding for him at dinner.  Probably because Sirius stole it before Lupin could marvel at his magnanimity.  

Finally, at the end of his tether (after two weeks), he found Lupin alone and asked him, “So what do I have to do to get you to forgive me?”

Lupin had looked at him with his clear eyes without saying anything.  He waited (James was sure this was a power play) until James was almost ready to walk away in frustrated defeat and then said, “You could try being less of a prat.”

James had never been called a prat in his life.  “I have been very nice to you,” when Lupin’s face clouded, he quickly added, “After being a, er, _prat_ that first day.”

“You may not be aware of this, but it’s actually offensive to call someone a _welsher_.”  Something in the way he said it made James _actually_ feel sorry for what he did.  It was a very uncomfortable feeling to have.  He _actually_ felt like a prat.  

“I’m really sorry, Lupin.”  He really meant it.  And Lupin looked at him.  Judging him with the adult way he had that belied his age.  It had something to do with the way his left brow raised.

“Alright.”  James smiled.  But Lupin put up a finger, “But you’re on probation for a while.”

It was good enough.

 

\----------------

 

_Remus_

It was after Easter Hols that Remus decided he had to do something.

He had been given Dahl’s _Charlie and the Glass Elevator_ and chocolate in his basket and was reading when Sirius came into the room.  He was followed by the Kreacher fellow who’d unpacked him at the start of Term and after Christmas Hols.  Sirius said nothing to Kreacher (and to tell the truth Remus found the whole thing sort of uncomfortable) before climbing into his bed and closing the drapes.  Pretending not to notice, Remus returned to his book.  He knew he should have portioned out the book in installments for the Term.  The same with the chocolate.  But he just _couldn’t_.

James (who had proven to be less of a prat) and Peter were not yet back.  “‘lo, Sirius,” Remus said, waiting until Kreacher left, looking over at Sirius’ closed drapes.  He was not surprised when Sirius did not respond.  

Sirius was always in a bad mood when he came back to Hogwarts although it disappeared as soon as other people were around.  Though he never said anything about it, Remus noticed the welts whenever Sirius returned to school.  Probably due to their schedules, they had been showering together since September.  It was weird for him at first to share a shower with another person.  But outside of a polite head’s up, they didn’t talk to each other at all.

After Christmas, Sirius had limped for a week.

Remus knew that someone at Sirius’ home was hurting him.  But as Sirius never said and Remus had no idea what to do, he told no one.  Sirius was proud and prickly and Remus didn’t know him very well, despite rooming with him.  He wasn’t 100% certain he actually _liked_ Sirius.  But he’d known a girl in Bleven who always had bruises.  His gran told him to pray for her as “her people are hard.”  He supposed Sirius’ people were hard.

So over the Hols, whilst doing chores with Taid, he’d asked about the special balm he used when he was kicked by an animal (it happened a lot more than anyone liked) or had strained his back.  Taid, who didn’t say much but was quick as a tack, had asked, “They’re not hurting you up there, are they?”

There were stories - even in Bleven - about public schools.

With complete honesty, Remus could say no.  Taid thought Remus’ tale of Lord pummelling (for which they’d received a letter in September) was hilarious, although he had to outwardly chastise him for it.  “I don’t want to sleep in the barn, right?”

Taid had rooted out an unopened jar of something called _Weezlee’s Balm_.  Remus was pretty certain Sirius would not appreciate a half-used jar.  And since he got back to Hogwarts before anyone else - due to a tight farm schedule - he was able to put it on Sirius’ bed before he got back.  

Remus was asleep when he was shaken awake by a rather angry Sirius Black.  In the moonlight, his light eyes were unnerving.  “This is from you, isn’t it?”  

“Um, yes.”  

Sirius’ face moved through so many emotions that Remus couldn’t quite figure out whether he was going to throw it at him or what.  Belatedly, he supposed he should have tried to cover his face with his arms.   _Weezlee’s Balm_ was in a glass jar, after all.  

Remus flinched.  Sirius said, “Okay.”  And then went back to his bed.

Remus was just starting to fall asleep again when Sirius came back with a bar of chocolate and handed it to him.  Remus, who was just as proud as Sirius, understood what it was.  Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth.  He took it and then Sirius went back to bed.

That went better than he could have imagined.

 

\--------------------

 

_Peter_

Pete very much enjoyed his first year at Hogwarts.  Particularly as his roommates got themselves sorted and he was selected to join the Hogwarts Choir.  Peter’s treble (having not yet gone through puberty) made him a hot commodity.  He was chosen to sing the descant for _Hark! The Herald Angels Sing_ and the choir had gone to St Giles’ at Christmas where his parents were able to see him sing.  

Most importantly, he had spent hours upon hours compiling and memorizing word lists.  He’d spent more time with the _Chambers Dictionary_ than anyone else at Hogwarts.  He wanted to qualify for the J. W. Spears  & Co’s Scrabble Championship.  He just wasn’t yet old enough.

His passion for wordsmithing had begun with crosswords and cryptics.  Although his Mum was quite busy, she’d carved out Sundays for them to work on word puzzles.  When the Pettigrews had watched a program where the Royal Family were playing Scrabble, he had begged for one for his birthday.   _I simply must have one_.

“You were born to be a solicitor, Peter,” his parents laughed.  They had been waiting for a sign since birth.  Both of his parents worked in law.

At school, he and Remus had maintained a single pun string for nearly two weeks.  They could only address each other in puns with extra points for external punning.  After they ended up in detention (some of the teaching staff were not amused), they had to agree to terms for any further punnery.  This included no punning in classes, during meals, and no repeats.  Although the last was difficult as over time they’d forgotten what they’d already used.  He had been saving up the _best_ puns for his birthday party.  Invitations had been sent and accepted.  Remus, James, and Sirius were coming.  As well as most of the Hogwarts Choir and his family.  Pince, the Hogwarts’ librarian, had sent her regards and a copy of the _Odyssey_.

After a quiet family breakfast where Peter discovered that his parents were going to take him to Disneyland (he almost fainted), people started to arrive.  The Pettigrews had kitted out their garden to accommodate the guests and had hired a canvas tent in the event of rain.  They’d also extended their security as Peter’s mum - and many of the guests - were quite well known.  James, who had acquired the nickname Prongs after being jabbed in the arse by a fork (probably not accidentally), was the first to arrive.  His parents had driven him, although he’d lobbied hard to be allowed to take the tube (to no avail).   _It would have been the greatest adventure of my life._

Sirius arrived somewhat later in a black car driven by the Black’s London chauffeur.  “I didn’t get to select the gift, Wee.  I have no idea what Lady, er, my mother had selected.  I’ll make it up to you at Hogsmeade.”  Pete’s nickname had started with Wormtail (he had stopped some older boys from beating a rat to death near the Greenhouses).  Over time it had shifted to Wormy, WT, WeeTee, and eventually Wee.

The gift turned out to be a Hogwarts’ sweater edged with the Gryffindor red and gold.  Nice, but not particularly exciting.

Remus was the last of his roommates to arrive.  His hair was matted from having fallen asleep on the train down.  He was in a pair of uncomfortably crisp jeans (which had been purchased for this event and so had not been worn in) and a blue jumper that turned out to be too hot for the day.  Pete loaned him one of his t-shirts.  Remus marvelled for some time at the swimming pool in Peter’s backyard and was unfailing polite to the Pettigrews.  “You have a very nice home, Mrs Pettigrew,” he’d then given them homemade cheese and jam.  He had been nervous until Prongs clapped him on the back and told him the cheese was _brilliant, mate._

_That was for the Pettigrews, Prongs._

_It didn’t have a name on it…_

“Peter!  It’s _sherbetday_!”  Remus said after they ate ice-cream, beating Peter by a beat.

“You’re out of _cone-trol!_ ”

“If you insist on punning today, Pete, I’m going to send everyone home,” Pete’s father had warned him.

“They’re no _pun_ ,” Peter whispered, one eye on his father.  Just in case.

At dusk, there was a flash just outside the privacy fence that ran along the property where a very planned strand of trees also screened them from the neighbors.  “Oh for Chrissakes,” one of the adults said while James and Sirius threw rocks at it.

“What was that?”  Remus asked.

“Probably a reporter,” Peter explained.

“You must be as important as the Queen, Pete, if the news are reporting on your birthday.”  Pete had been annoyed that Sirius seemed velcro attached to Remus during his own birthday.  And James pretty much ran with Sirius.  But Remus’ comment pleased Pete very much as he often felt a little humbled by his friends.  “Although won’t Prongs and Sirius get in trouble for throwing rocks at someone?”  So Pete and Remus had had to drag the boys away from their dangerous activity.

All in all, it had been quite a wonderful birthday.  


	2. Chapter 2

**Second Year**

_Remus_

“You know, Sirius, if you don’t let me sleep I _am_ going to have another spell,” Remus said moodily, under the _two_ blankets Sirius had wrapped around him.  He couldn’t move if he tried.  The offending party starting to wakefulness almost on top of Remus’ head.  His back was against the headboard.  Remus had woken sweating through his nightshirt and under the impending threat of Sirius falling on his head.  It was the third time Sirius had done it so far and Remus was getting irritated.

“But if you die on my watch, Prongs and Wee are going to kill me.”  As an afterthought he added, “And probably your parents.”

“I like how my parents get second billing behind my _roommates_.”  Sirius just shrugged.  “If you’re going to stay here all night like a nervous nelly, you might as well just lay down.”  Remus smiled, “You can take one of these blankets.”  Sirius was easily swayed as it was two in the morning, although thankfully Saturday night (technically Sunday), and he had been surreptitiously rubbing his sore back.  After ripping off a blanket, having to tidy the precautions he’d made for Remus’ safety about six inches further towards the wall, and moving his legs so much that Remus wanted to push him out of bed, Sirius was finally settled.  Although wide awake.

“Are you still awake?”  

Remus sighed.  “Thanks to your wiggling, yes.”

“Will you tell me a story?”

“I thought _I_ was the one who needed to be catered to here.”  Remus, who had managed to free an arm, sort of flailed it around to take in the scope of the catering.  Not only had all three of them wrapped him burrito style every evening, but all the sharp edges of the furniture were covered in taped up flannels.  It was both annoying and strangely endearing.  Remus had been having fits since he was quite young and they seemed to be tapering off except when very stressed.  Right now their stifling care was just annoying.

“I’ll never fall asleep unless you tell me a story.”  This was not an idle threat.  Sirius never gave up on anything once he set his mind to it.

Remus sighed.  His knack for telling stories - the result of long evenings on the Lupin Farm - was the only thing that got them through Binn’s History course last term.  He took the dry lectures and narcolepsy inducing text and added little bits from other things he’d read.  If it was Peter, he would add bits about clever strategies.  James liked stupid (he called them heroic) acts that somehow worked against all odds.  And Sirius liked the “fun parts,” which for him consisted of bloody battles and mythological creatures.  He refused to believe that the giants of Jotunheim didn’t exist.  He had once spent four hours trying to make his point with a Franzetta album cover.  It was probably the most effort he’d put into anything and they all ended up conceding so they could go to sleep.  No one could figure out how he’d gotten the record as it was well known that the Blacks never let him out alone when he was home.

“Alright.”  Sirius turned to face him, watching him with his still grey eyes.  Remus took a moment and then started, “Once upon a time, in a world parallel to ours but _where Jotun giants actually existed_ ,” Sirius snorted “the ever present threat of great evils had created the need for a Society of powerful strangers to protect the earth.”  Remus’ brain was working only a few seconds ahead of what he was saying, so there were more than a few _ums_ involved in the tale.  “Our intrepid heroes were a motley group of travelers who were quite shite at teamwork.  They included the dashing but myopic Captain Britannia, international playboy and nervous hair fusser.  He was nearly invincible after an MI6 experiment that went awry.  Next was the Scrabbler, whose arcane hand symbols,” Remus flipped Sirius the v, “and talent for word games had stopped many a foe.  After some scuffles with a villain named the Black Knight,” Sirius narrowed his eyes, “Who came from a long line of Black Knights most of whom were very evil but was not evil himself, they convinced him to join their Society.  The Black Knight carried the Ebony Tongue, a family heirloom that allowed the Black Knight to cut through anything, deflect, um, all manners of energy attacks, and…”

“Caused maidens to reveal their bosoms.”

“And apparently caused maidens to reveal their bosoms.”  Remus sighed.  “And caused him to eat all the chocolate pudding.”

“But what about the, er, last member of this Society.  The, um, The Fusty Farmboy?”

Remus gave him a look.  “Seriously?”

Sirius gave him a very naughty grin.  “Just go with it, Moony.”

“The last member of the Society tempered the other members of the Society who quite often did not consider the consequences of their actions on the lives of those they were sworn to protect.  He was neither dashing, flashy, nor did he cause maidens to reveal their bosoms because it was gross.  For reasons known to no one, he was inordinately fond of the members of the Society.”

“He also created detailed reports on Society objectives while complaining about having to do it.”

“You should really be taking your own notes, you know.”

Remus continued his tale - with commentary from Sirius - until the sun was starting to rise.  Neither Peter nor James woke them, leaving a tangle of limbs and blankets to be sorted when they woke up.

 

\-----------------

 

_Lily_

Professor Slughorn was not only the Biology and Chemistry instructor for third through seventh years, but also advised _the Wits_ (informally known as the _Slug Club_ ) for pupils who were exceptionally gifted.  This included the King’s Scholars but also fee and day students.  

Ordinarily, Lily attended these sorts of things with Sev.  He was funny and smart and agreed that Potter and Black were a menace to society.  But he was under the weather at the second gathering of the Slug Club winter term, so she only went with Alice and Widad.  Alice being one of Widad’s roommates and usually quite funny.  Alice mentioned about every six seconds that she  “really hoped that Oliver is there.”

Lily, who only had eyes for one boy, and Widad who had not yet started to notice boys, were justifiable getting tired of her line of thought.

“He’s a fee student, right?”  Slug Club meetings were one of the few times they didn’t have to wear their school uniforms and Lily had chosen the dress Tuney had sewn for her in Home Economics.  It was a heavy dark floral a-line dress with a starched white collar.  She thought it was very lovely.  

“Yes.  But he’s very smart,” Alice hastened to add.  “I’m sure he would have been invited to join the _Wits_.”

In fact, Oliver Moore was there.  Within moments of arriving, Alice yanked Lily and Widad towards a tangle of Hufflepuffs who made space for them.  She went around introducing everyone to Lily until her head spun with names and faces.  Melinda and Stewie and Lindsay and two Andrews.  The only non-Hufflepuff in the group (besides Lily) was a Third Year Ravenclaw named Fabian Prewett.  He was burley and ruddy-haired and smiled a lot.  “I wouldn't ordinarily run with this crew,” He motioned to the Hufflepuffs with a thumb.  “But my brother, Gid, is in the House.  And I've sort of become a role model to them.”

“Oh, you're one of the Prewett twins, right?”

He perked up.  “I see our reputation precedes us!”

“Well, we've been warned to not fall in your footsteps if that's what you mean.”

Fabian made a face.  “We may not be appreciated by the geriatric set, but I assure you that Gid and I are _very_ funny.”

Lily looked at him.  “So tell me a joke then.”

“Oi!  It doesn't work like that!”

Lily arched a brow, unimpressed.

“Gid!”  Fabian called out to a boy who was the spitting image of Fabian.  Except that he had more freckles.  

“Yes brother mine?”

“Gingersnap here wants me to crack wise on command.”

Gideon gave her a dismissive look.  “Well you should humor her, right?”

“Are you suggesting that I just grin and bear it?”

“Yes, let's hear your rib-tickler or she won't be able to tell you from Adam.”

Lily snorted.  “God, I'm beginning to believe you're just not _Abel._ ”

Gideon laughed.  “I like you, Gingersnap.  Can I escort you to the punch?” Lily agreed with Fabian yelling a loud: _Hey!_ behind them.  His gentlemanliness spent, Gideon ditched her at the punchbowl with a wink.

Lily didn't much want to go back to the Hufflepuff tangle, so she dawdled with her glass of punch and dithered over the biscuits.  She was deciding between a peanut butter, oatmeal raisin, or chocolate chunk when Remus Lupin took the last chocolate.  When she stared up at him he gave her an apologetic look.  “It's not for me, I swear.  I've been commissioned by another party.”

Lily couldn't for the life of her figure out why he ran with Potter.  “A girlfriend?”  She teased.  Remus was so earnest that he didn't even blush.

“Oh no, I haven't got a girlfriend.”  To which Lily felt a moment of relief.  He nodded his head towards a girl with light brown hair who was standing somewhat to the side, watching people.  She was still in her school uniform and Lily recognized the edging of her cardigan as Slytherin House.  “Come with?”  Lily, who had a secret crush on him that wild horses would never get out of her was quick to agree.

Remus very deliberately put himself in front of the girl before handing over the biscuit.  She offered a smile in return, her brown eyes lighting up.  She lifted her palm to her chin and gestured towards Remus.  Who then made a motion like he was inviting her to punch him.

Remus motioned for Lily to stand next to him.  She did not have to be asked twice.  “This is Lily Evans.  She’s a Gryffindor, like myself,” Remus was also wearing his school uniform and pointed to the red edging of the cardigan.  The whole time, Remus was gesticulating in a way Lily had never seen him do before.  

“Hello,” Lily said, giving Remus the side-eye.

“And Lily, Callisto Selwyn.”  

Callisto waved her hand with a smile.

As they all offered hellos, Remus added, “Lily’s the one I told you about.  She memorized all of _The Passing of Arthur_.”  He continued to move his hands and then did something that made Callisto laugh.  He gave her the finger which shocked Lily but made Callisto laugh harder.

“Remus, what are you doing?”

“It’s our Atreides Battle Language,” Callisto said, her voice odd in a way Lily couldn’t quite place.  She tapped her ear.  “I’m deaf.”  Lily, who had never met a deaf person in her life, made a mental note to kick Remus later for not mentioning it prior to making the introduction.  

“I’m shite at it,” Remus admitted.  “But Lily knows a very long poem.”  

“The Tennyson,” Callisto said.  “Very impressive.”  She was signing everything she said and Remus was trying to copy her.  

“We’re partners in Lockhart’s Latin.”

“Isn’t that a Third Year section?”

Remus shrugged and Callisto pulled a forefinger from her forehead and swung it out.  From the roll of her eyes, Lily could only interpret it as Remus being too modest.  As per usual.

It turned out that Callisto, who was congenitally deaf, was from Godric’s Hollow where most of her family lived.  “Lots of Bishops, the Selwyns.”  Her paternal grandmother, Diana, had made it her life’s mission to make sure that Callisto had a normal life despite her disability.  She’d been tutored and had never been to a regular school until coming to Hogwarts.  She had an interpreter for classes.  Remus was of a handful of people who had actually learned - very poorly, he added - BSL for her.  

While Lily’s heart was in the process of growing two sizes to accommodate her crush on Remus, someone yelled, “Bomb!”  The room was filling with thick, grey smoke.  No need to ask who was responsible.

James Potter appeared from the smoke, wiping smudgy hands on his trouser legs, with an enormous smile on his face.  “I’ve come to rescue you, Evans.”  

“ _YOU_ did this?”  Lily screamed at him, her face bright red with anger.

“Well, Pads did help…”  Remus had Callisto’s hand and was leading her towards the door.  In the distance Lily could hear Black’s: _I don’t know why you’re so angry about this_ , _Moony.  We did it for you._

Coughing, Fabian Prewett appeared out of nowhere and extended a hand to Lily, “Shall we join the exodus, Gingersnap?”  Lily gave him her hand.

“GINGERSNAP??”  Potter yelled as Lily disappeared with Prewett.

“Amateur,” Fabian said, shaking his head, as they disappeared into the smoke.

 

\-------------------

 

_James_

“ _How does this Baron Snivellus keep getting away_ ?  I thought we-- I mean, _they_ , had super powers?”  Sirius was completely exasperated, hands in his curling hair.

“I have to agree with Pads here, Moony,” Pete said at Remus’ feet where he was sitting.  “I mean it’s the _Institute for the Criminally Insane_.  You have to know what to expect when setting up a place like that.  I can’t believe that the administrative body of Ultralondon would even approve something like that in the city limits.”

A rugby ball popped over the side of the bed before descending again.   

“Well, with Captain Brittania out for injuries…”

“About that,” James said from the floor, throwing and catching the rugby ball again.  “I don’t think that Count Nefarious’ Laser Cannon 3000 would even injure Captain Britannia.  With chemically enhanced reflexes…”

“I’m fairly certain Captain Britannia had been side-tracked by the Green Widow.”

“She needed his help!”

“I’m fairly certain that she _does not_ appreciate the assistance of Captain Britannia in any way.”

“She is just denying her love for our intrepid hero.”

“ _Heroes_ ,” Peter clarified from the bed.

Sirius put a hand on Remus’ shoulder.  “But seriously,” he rolled his eyes as everyone groaned.  “How does this Baron Snivellus keep getting away?”

*

It was during Maths that a cricket fell into Amaranth Jones’ shirt collar.

There had only been a moment’s notice.  The definite sound of something moving in the modern drop ceilings.  The sound of Summer in the country.

And then the cricket.

Amaranth jumped up immediately, screaming and slapping at something on her shoulder.  Ms Vector snapping, “Please return to your seat, Miss Jones.”

And someone else, Priscilla - James thought her name was, though she had the unfortunate nickname of _Spots_ \- said, “There’s a bug on her shoulder, Ms.”

“Good heavens,” Vector exclaimed, but had nothing more to say on the matter.  At least until more crickets started to fall down from the ceiling.  A black symphony of chitinous bodies landing on heads and bodies and desks and books.  Quite a few lost their lives as the class moved as a body, trying to rush from the room.  James sat still as a statue, a very disingenious look of shock on his face.

It had taken him a great deal of time to collect so many crickets.  In the end, he had had to send away for boxes of the things.  Send to a post box in Hogsmeade that he wasn’t supposed to have.  He wasn’t supposed to go to Hogsmeade for that matter.  Being an underclassman.  But he had petitioned Grubbly-Plank to allow him the creatures for _science purposes_.  And she, not being appraised of his very wicked ways, had agreed to allow it.

Peter and Glen had had to help him bring them up.  As they were the more angelic of the Second Years.  And Pads was in detention.  Remus would have absolutely nothing to do with it.

It was the paper trail, of course, that gave him away.  In hindsight, polishing trophies and considering the essay that was due (and _obviously_ not even started), he realized that he should have done the whole thing without getting permission.

  


\---------------------

 

_Sirius_

During the last week of the school year, James said, “My parents said you should come over during the Summer.  I mean,” James said this alot, even when it was absolutely clear what he meant, “Two months is a long time not to see each other, right?”

For Sirius, with the prospect of a miserable Summer, this sounded like a godsend.  Something to look forward to sanctioned by the Potters, which meant he might actually be able to go.  As per the printed schedule that Kreacher had supplied, he had no less than fourteen social events to attend.  And a photoshoot featuring the Blacks.  This necessitated a fitting for new dress clothes.

 _It would be in your best interest to be more invested in the welfare of the Blacks, Grimmauld._  Lady Black had reminded him over the Easter Hols.  She never called him by his Christian name.  Only by his title.  

Somewhere after his eighth birthday, Sirius’ mouth had grown a mind of its own.  It had come from nowhere as far he could tell.  But it also seemed to have no intention of leaving.

_Why?  It’s all a great big lie._

_Take off your trousers, Grimmauld._  She had directed, pulling out the leather belt she used on both himself and Reg when they were out of compliance.  It was useless to run away.  Where would he go?  And going to Lord Black - who never sullied his hands with the children - would only make it worse.  

“You’re going to come, right?”  This was directed at Remus, who was reading one of his Science Fiction novels in bed.  Remus desperately needed a haircut.  

With a careless shrug, Remus said, “I’ll have to see,” without looking up.

“I’m coming!”  Pete said with a grin.  “It’ll be nice to get out of the heat.”  

“Won’t they let you come?”  Sirius asked.

“I can get my Mother to write to yours, Moony.  She’s very persuasive.  At least with my Father.”

Sirius was learning that it was very difficult to push Remus.  If he didn’t want to do something he didn’t cover it up with polite reasons. He just said he didn’t want to do it.  And if you pushed him too much, he would give you _that_ look.  The one that said you were a complete wanker and he might say no just to spite the asker.  

And Remus followed through.

Most people gave into Sirius.  He had learnt that he was handsome and could overwhelm with the force of his personality.  From the Blacks he had learnt to hammer at walls, to poke at weaknesses, and cajole with or without meaning it to get what he wanted.  It was all about strategy.  And he was quite good at chess.

But Remus was annoyingly immune to Sirius’ tantrums or charms.  

Sirius went to bed that night in a strop.  He was still in a strop when he woke up, although he was able to play it off at breakfast and then while he was finalizing his packing.  He had thrown everything in helter skelter in defiance of Kreacher - who would be by that afternoon - and was still in a strop when Remus came back from whatever he was doing.  It probably had something to do with Selwyn or Evans.  Remus was always surrounded by girls.  

“What’s wrong, Pads?”  Remus had packed the day prior - he only had the one suitcase - and seemed to be in a very good mood.  He _liked_ going home.

“Nothing.”

Remus took the opening - as it was always an opening for Sirius because he didn’t know how to just say what he meant - and walked over to sit on Sirius’ bed.  “I know you’re going to miss World History with Binns,” Remus said seriously, “But I hope you know that Binns will be pining after you just as much.  He may even send you chocolates.”

“The pinnacle of love.”

Remus gave him a look that couldn’t believe there was any other answer.  “You mock Binns’ devotion, Sirius.  But I assure you, he is very _Sirius_ ,” Remus gave him the little eye waggled that clued him into the pun.  

“That is so disgusting.”  Despite the pronouncement, Sirius dropped down onto the messy pile of sheets and duvet that was his bed.  There were sweets wrappers, broken pens, and even a Biology essay somewhere under the duvet.  

“So are you going to tell me what’s wrong?  Or do I have to _finally_ tell Binns that his devotion is requited.”

Sirius was quiet for a long time.  He could hear Moony breathing beside him and the chirp of birds outside.  Prongs and Wee would be back at any time.  “I hate going home,” Sirius finally said on an exhale.  It was weird to say it out loud.  It felt like ripping out his brain and handing it over.  That was very dangerous.  Remus was quiet and Sirius added, “Are you sure you can’t come to the Potter’s?”

If Remus had been anyone else, he would have said something like _Is that what you’re upset about?_ Or _Oh my God, Sirius_.  But instead, Remus took his hand.  Or tried to as their positions didn’t make it any less than awkward.  Sirius had to grab Remus’ back as the taller boy had started to pull his back.  Remus had never taken his hand before and he wanted it back jealously.

“If I can, I will come.”

“Promise?”

“If it was in my power you wouldn’t have to ask.”

 

\-------------------

 

_Peter_

“I have never eaten so much food in all my life,” Peter wasn’t sure he could move from the grass where he had succumbed to the lethargy of eating too much.

“You think you ate a lot?  I had _four_ pieces of cake.  And they were _big_ slices.  I mean that’s a lot of cake, right?”  

“It was half the cake, Prongs.”

“You barely ate any, Moony!”  James looked at Remus suspiciously, as if he just realized that Remus was really bad at being thirteen years old when faced with cake.

“I don’t like Red Velvet,” Remus said.

“Why didn’t you say something?!”  James was astounded.  “My Mom would have made you something!”

Remus looked scandalized.  “It’s not polite to turn down food.  And my Gran would kill me if she found out I’d asked for something other than what was offered.”

Peter turned to his left and saw that Sirius was in the lake.  “Do you supposed Pads will die?  It hasn’t been nearly an hour yet.”

“It’s more likely he’ll be eaten by the giant squid.”

“Cephalopods are a serious threat, Prongs.  They’re a seriously underestimated invasive species in English lakes,” Peter acknowledged while Moony and Prongs laughed.  

“I’ll have to get the Gardener on it.”

“A matter of national importance,” Remus agreed.

Sirius joined them sometime later and shook out like a dog on James, who chased him around the park - which was quite a large park - before they crashed into a squirming pile of boy where they’d started.  Remus asked him about his attempt to be accepted into the Scrabble Championships.

“Well, I did get a response from the President of J. W. Spears & Co.  He wrote that while the rules did not explicitly forbid my entering the competition due to age he strongly suggested that I wait until I was at least 15,” Peter was very put out by this ruling, although he now had something in writing.  “This would make it two Augusts from this year.  I asked Father if we could have it contested in court, but he seemed to agree that I was too young.  To tell the truth, I am sick of hearing that I am too young for things.  I _am_ almost thirteen.”

“I hope this doesn’t go on for _ages_.”

“That was infantile.”

“I’ve senior puns before, Wee.”

In the end, they only stopped punning when Sirius and James pushed them into the lake.

Although it was not quite an hour, no one died.


	3. Chapter 3

**Third Year**

_Remus_

The first time it happened, Remus broke the mug Peter had brought him from a much talked about trip to Disneyland that said: _Gramma._  He managed to scald his thighs, stain his white dress-shirt, and only _just_ rescued his shoes.  James thought he had been particularly affected by his play-by-play account of rugby practice.  Lily, who had been hovering as always, was much more astute and quickly helped a slightly dazed Remus.  

“Are you okay?”  When he didn’t immediately respond, Lily gripped his chin in her small hand and looked at his face.

Blinking finally, Remus looked down at her. “Huh?”

“Are you okay?”  Lily repeated.  She smelled like licorice and shampoo and Remus smiled at her.  She blushed.  Completely oblivious to her enormous crush on him but not James’ narrowed eyes, Remus stepped back a little.  

“I…. think so.”  He noticed the broken mug on the floor.  “Oh no, Pete’s going to kill me.”  Remus, who kept pretty much everything everyone gave him, bent down to pick up the pieces of the mug.  As he bent down, the damp fabric of his trousers rubbed against his thighs and he hissed.  Lily offered to investigate the burn on his thighs and James said _he_ would do it.  But Sirius, coming into the common room with an untucked shirt and a handful of biscuits said: _I think I am the best qualified person to be taking off anyone’s pants_.  No one could really argue with him, strangely not questioning the boasting of a fourteen year old boy, and Moony agreed only so could get out of the common room as quickly as possible as he wasn’t entirely sure what had just happened and was burning with embarrassment.  

“Here, hold this for me,” Sirius said, shoving a chocolate chip biscuit in Remus’ mouth, before unbuckling Remus’ pants.  

“I can do it myself!”  Remus tried to say, but behind the biscuit it came out unintelligible.  

“As noted earlier, the only one with the right credentials to remove your trousers would be _moi_.”  As it was Sirius who almost never wore trousers in the dorm room, Remus just sort of flopped back on his bed and let him do it.  “Besides, you also scalded your hands.”  Bringing his hands in front of him, splayed, Remus realized he was correct.  “There are easier ways to get Evans’ attention.”

Removing the cookie from his mouth with a snap, Remus lifted his legs to Sirius could peel off the black trousers.  “Why would I want Evans’ attention?  She’s my Chem partner so I see her in class twice a week.”  Remus was confused and also in pain.  The air on his legs burned.  A lot.

Sirius hissed through his teeth.  “You really did a number, mate.”  His thighs were an angry red.  “I think you should get those legs under a cold shower.”  Remus had no reason to naysay him as he knew firsthand that Sirius had quite a few scars of his own.  Although they always talked around it.

Remus stripped in the showers, gasping when he realized he’d managed to get tea on his white dress shirt.  Sirius came in behind him, having reclaimed his pile of biscuits, and sat on the toilet seat.  After three years of showering in proximity to one another, Sirius no longer had any boundaries.  If he wanted to hang out with you he would follow you everywhere.  It was not unusual to wake up with his face pressed up against your own.  Remus assumed it was like that with everyone.

“If it won’t come out, you can borrow one of mine,” Sirius honestly didn’t understand why Remus couldn’t just get a new shirt.  But he understood that Remus was uncomfortable about it.  

“You’re two inches shorter than I am,” Remus noted, having deposited the shirt into the sink for soaking before moving into the shower.  Remus stood under the cold shower as long as he could stand it.  Waited about ten minutes and then went in again. “What did you mean about Evans?”

“Oh, she has a huge crush on you.”  Sirius said it very matter of factly.  Like James wouldn’t murder Remus in cold blood.  Or like these things happened to Remus on an everyday basis.

“Evans?”  Remus laughed, although his teeth were chattering a bit.

“I would recommend that you set your sights on someone else.  If you want to continue a harmonious existence with Prongs.”  Sirius handed Remus a towel as he came out of the shower.  

“I have absolutely no interest in Lily like that.”  Sirius smiled at Remus’ obvious disgust.

“No?  I guess it’s Selwyn.  She is richer.  Remus, you _golddigger_.”

Remus gave Sirius a look.  Sirius was often at the receiving end of that look.  “I’m not into _anyone_.  I’m not like you.”

“You make that sound like a bad thing, Moony.  I have to tell you that being as handsome, rich, and titled as I am comes with quite a few drawbacks.”

“At least you can afford more than one shirt.”  

“Yeah, but they all have little coat of arms embroidered on them.  The Blacks didn’t miss anything.  Not even _my pants_.”  Which Sirius then helpfully showed him.  Remus wanted to feel sorry for him, but instead started laughing.  

“So basically if I borrow a shirt from you, I’m swearing fealty to the Earl of Grimmauld.”

Sirius’ smile was beatific.  “Yessss.”  He let the word roll off his tongue, clearly excited.  “You could be my page.”

“Good Lord,” Remus said, looking to continue but Sirius quickly cut him off.

“Yes, that’s the idea.”

“If your head got any bigger, you prat, you would never fit through doorways.”

Later that night, after a trip to the nurse, James made Remus swear a blood oath - on one of his scabs - that he would not poach Evans.  Remus refused to touch the scab, it was disgusting, and Sirius quickly noted that as Remus belonged to the household of the Earl of Grimmauld, he couldn’t swear an oath without the approval of his Lord.  

“I can’t believe you sold your soul to Pads.  Did you have no thought to preservation?  I thought you were the brains of the Marauders.”

“I have no intention of _poaching_ anyone,” Remus noted, not entirely answering James.  “You can’t even do that to _people_.  It only works for eggs, Prongs.”

“Actually, I’ve had poached pears…”

“You’re not helping here, Wee.”  Remus turned back to James.  “I will swear on your mangy scab that I will _never_ like Lily like that.”

And then, because they were teenage boys, they spent the rest of the night playing _Mystery Date_ , which James had begged Pete to buy (he wouldn’t do it himself) so he could learn all the strategies and impress Lily with his skills.  Should she ever invite him to play.  Or talk to him.

Remus was actually quite good at it, so he didn’t mind.

 

\--------------------------------

 

_James_

By the fourth time it happened, even James had to admit that something weird was going on with Remus.  He would have probably noticed it earlier if he hadn’t been spending a lot of time with a fourth year named Eleanor.  Most of his time with Eleanor was spent making out (rather sloppily) with her in the places that Evans might be.  

So far, he had not noticed all signs of her enviousness.  But he knew it was there.

“So I checked out some books…”

“Pads, I had no idea you knew where the library was.”

“Of course I do.  It’s where Remus tries to hide.  Anyway, as I was saying, I think they’re absence seizures.”  Sirius passed around a very thick book for both Peter and James to look at.  “And they changed his pills.”

“How come he didn’t tell us about that?”  James was incensed.  He always demanded to know everything from his friends.  He certainly shared everything himself.  “We’re supposed to know things like that!”

“Well… I broke into his trunk.”  In no way was Sirius ashamed of his action.

“Do you just make free with everyone’s trunks?”  Peter asked, astounded by Sirius’ cheek.

“Well, I do know that you have about fourteen jars of pimple cream.”  Pete blushed to the roots of his hair.  “But don’t worry, James has a huge stash of girlie mags.”

“I’m pretty sure I actually told you to make use of them.”  James certainly had.  He would rather die than admit he had studied the _How-Tos_ rather more than the actual pictures.  He had been horrified to find out (from a write-in) that his prick could actually not work.  Of course he’d told the rest of the Marauders.  He had had nightmares for weeks.

Sirius waved them off.  “Listen, I convened this meeting to talk about Moony.  History Society is off in about an hour so our time is limited.”

“Well, I hate to state the obvious, but what are _we_ going to do anyway?”  Pete was still very red.  “And I’m sure his doctors are doing everything they can do.”

“And I’m not going to sleep with him again,” James said warningly.  “You can do whatever you want, Starman,” Sirius was always pleased when James called him this.  He loved Bowie.  “But his elbows _should be_ registered as deadly weapons.”  Peter heartily agreed to the last.

“No, I have a better idea,” Sirius said in that voice that meant it was either an amazing or awful idea.  James thought Sirius had the best ideas in the world.  Outside of his own, of course.  Remus always thought they were awful and was pleasantly surprised when they worked. Pete could go either way.  “I think we need to practice catching the things he drops.”

“That is the stupidest plan ever,” Peter said, his opinion more than a little clouded by the revelation that Sirius had made free with his possessions.  James wondered why Wee needed so many blemish products.  He had honestly never noticed the state of Pete’s face in the three years they had been friends.  “How are we going to _know_ when he drops something?”

“That is the best plan ever!” James said, smiling brightly.  “With my keen reflexes, I should be excellent at this.”

“That’s what I thought, too,” Sirius said, giving Peter the side-eye.

“I reiterate, how are we going to _know_ when he drops something?”

“So, it’s like when you’re on the pitch and you _just know_ the best way to get the ball through the defensive line, right?”  Peter had no idea what he was talking about.  “Okay.  Well, when you _know_ that you passed a particularly difficult test.”

“I think I was born without this ESP,” Peter said.  “Why don’t I just take a First Aid course?  Pomfrey offers them every term.  Although I don’t know anyone who’s ever taken one.”

“That’s brilliant, Pete,” Sirius said, clapping him on the back.  James agreed.

So, while Peter spent two months of Saturdays with Pomfrey learning the fundamentals of First Aid - under the guise of having detention - James and Sirius threw things at each other at random times and tried to catch them.  Remus, and frankly most of the school, thought it was some new game they’d created.  It became a new craze that waned only under heavy suppression by the administration.

“God, they’re such wankers,” Evans said during Chemistry.  James watched her from his strategically placed seat, two rows over and one table back.  Unlike Remus, he had been paired with a Ravenclaw that he was certain had never bathed.

James approved heartily when Remus scooted further away from her.

“You don’t have to sit so far away, Remus.  I’m not going to spill hydrochloric acid on you.”  Evans looked perplexed, hands on hips.  

They earned more than one detention in classes, although after explaining themselves to McGonagall, she actually threw a piece of chalk at James’ head.  Which he caught.  

It was James who caught the plate Remus dropped.  He didn’t even spill anything.  And then Remus got it after Sirius very proudly explained what had happened.  It was a pretty spectacular save if James said so himself.  And he did.  Often and loudly.

While playing yet another game of _Mystery Date_ under duress - where James _finally_ matched with the formal date instead of the dud - Remus just looked at them and started crying.  Sirius was, unsurprisingly, laying on Remus’ left thigh.  James had given Sirius shite about his ‘crush’ on Remus.  Sirius had punched him in a very sensitive place.  Peter was propped up on pillows and James directly across pumping his fist into the air in celebration.

“I know my date is a momentous occasion, Moony, but it’s not worth crying over.”  James said, trying to lighten the mood.  Remus never cried and he was very uncomfortable with it.

“You’re all such prats.”

“I love you too, Moony,” Sirius said, “But you’re getting my hair wet.”  Remus wiped his sleeve against his eyes.  Peter, helpfully, started cleaning up the game.

“We look after our own,” James said with a finality that brooked no argument.  

 

\-----------------------

 

_Lily_

“So you're coming to the dance, right?”  Alice asked sitting next to Lily in Government.  She was not paying particular attention and pulling out a nail file every time Crouch turned to write anything on the chalkboard.  Wadid had turned around more than once from the table in front of them to tell them to stop talking with her daggered eyes.

“I hadn't really given it much thought, actually.”  

This was a complete fabrication as Lily had thought of nothing else since it was announced.  

Alice rolled her eyes, not unaware of the little hearts surrounding the RJL on the last page of Lily’s notebook.  Lily had been trying to pin Remus down for a week now, but he was always busy.  Either in his dorm, working with the Latin Club (that she couldn't join without being too obvious), or spending time with his mates.  Who now fancied themselves the Marauders.  Remus had even been going to rugby practices and there was no way she was going anywhere Potter and Sirius were.  

“If you hold out too long you'll miss all the good ones.”  Alice's opinion on what constituted ‘good ones’ significantly differed from Lily’s.  It prominently highlighted Sirius Black who wouldn't give her the time of day.  “This includes Objective R,” in deference to the high confidential nature of the discussion they had started using code names.  Not particularly creative code names.  But Lily could hardly go around calling Remus _Moony_ could she?  She had no idea why they even called him that.  “If I squint I can almost see what you see in him.”

Alice was assessing Remus so intently from across the room that he turned around.  Glenmare joined him, both of them looking perplexed.  Lily was flaming with mortification.

“I'm going to ask,” Lily said defensively.  It was becoming a sore subject.  Alice had already secured George Hadid, a fifth year Ravenclaw.  This was apparently a major coup for Hufflepuff House, but Lily didn't get it.  He was nice enough to look at, but had he ever reciprocated long smoldering looks across Ovid?  Technically neither had Remus, but she thought he _could_.  Lily had finally picked up a tube of mascara that she hoped would make the language of her lashes more obvious.  “We have a group assignment tonight.  I'll ask him then.”

She threw a glance at the back of Remus’ golden curls and his broad shoulders under an almost too tight button down.  He was completely engrossed in what Crouch was saying, the strong profile of his jaw leading to _very_ kissable lips.  Lily wondered if he believed in true love.  She was completely oblivious to the scowls on both James Potter and Sev’s faces.

That evening, Lily was sure to put on lipgloss and brush her red hair until it shone.  With her head in the air, she walked through the common room a woman on a mission.  Come hell or high water, she was going to ask Remus to the dance.

He was waiting for her at what she considered their table in the library.  The top button of his blouse was undone and his tie was loose.  She dropped her books on the table and he jumped up.  “Lily.”

“Hello, Remus.”  She batted her lashes.

“Do you have something in your eye?”  He asked with concern.

Lily colored.  “Um, yeah, just a second.”  She turned, pretending to be doing something about her eyes and trying to tamp down her embarrassment.  

“Everything okay?”  She nodded as he smiled.  “Good, I already started on these ionic compounds and acids.”  He pushed over his notebook where he had several pages of carefully written notes.  He had very neat handwriting for a boy.  

“This looks like a good start.  I took some of my own notes.”  They worked very well together and made an outline for their group presentation and divvied up sections they would separately be responsible for.  It was eight o’clock, close to curfew, when they finally finished.  “Walk you back to the common room?”

Remus paused in putting his book back in his back and then nodded.  “Sure.”

“So what do you think about our chances against Ravenclaw this weekend?”  Lily didn’t know anything about rugby but chose the subject because obviously Remus was into it if he was even attending practices.  

“Er, pretty good I think.  Although I hear that the Ravenclaws have a very powerful, er, um, goal...leaper.”  

“Goalkeeper?  I didn’t know rugby and football had the same name for positions,” Lily said, happy that she was now on familiar ground.

“Uh, I think they’re both descended from an, er, Greek game.”

“Are you going to the dance?”  Lily tried to change the subject as covertly as possible.  It sort of landed like a ton of bricks.  She decided to just go with it before she lost her nerve.  “Cause I would like to go with you.”

Remus didn’t say anything nor did he make eye-contact with her.  But he was blushing, which was a hopeful sign.  “So about that…”

“You’re already going with someone?”  She said, not _quite_ able to strip the disappointment from her voice.  “Did Callisto already ask you?” She knew he didn’t like Callisto like that so she held out a hope that she could still go with them.  As a triad.  Sort of.  

“Er, no.  I’m, er, going with… er… Sirius?”

“Seriously?  Why on earth would you go with him?  He’s probably had hundreds of offers.”  Lily hated Black only moderately less than Potter.

Sounding more confident, Remus continued, “Well that’s the thing, right?  So many girls wanted to go with him that he didn’t want to have to… choose.  So he asked me to go with him.  To, ah, keep his, uh, options… open.”

Lily narrowed her eyes.  “And you just agreed to this?”

“Well,” Remus gave her a hopeless look.  “He’s one of my best mates, _isn’t he_?”  Remus’ voice was a little high on the last part and gave her a look that asked if he actually was.

“Well.”  Lily said it on a huff.  It sort of hung there a bit as they neared the door to the Gryffindor dorms.  “But you’ll dance with me, right? You don’t think your _date_ would mind?  I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble.”

“No.  I don’t think they’ll mind at all.”

That evening, Lily missed entirely the conversation that happened in the Marauder’s dorm.

_Listen Sirius.  You have to do it because this is all your fault._

_How is it my fault?_

_You don’t_ want _me to have to take Lily to the dance because you wouldn’t go with me do you?  Think of Prongs._

_Fine.  But I am_ not _dancing with you._

*

“Lily!  Wait up,” Sev called from behind and she stopped to let him catch up.  His dark brown hair tucked behind his ears and a bright smile on his thin face.  Lily couldn’t help but smile every time he smiled at her.  He was just so happy to see her.  Even when she had spots, she’d gotten a bad grade, or she was in a bad mood (usually after a run-in with Potter).

“How are you?”  She asked him, laughing as he almost ran her over in his haste to get to her.

“Great now that I’ve run into you.”

“Literally.”  He blushed easily, his skin was so pale, and she never stopped teasing him about it.  He was the only one worse than she was and she didn’t want to give up her advantage.  “What can I do for you, Sev?”

“So I was wondering if you were going to the dance with Lupin?”

Lily actually blushed.  “What a strange thing to ask.  Why do you think I would be going to the dance with Remus?”  She asked, her voice just slightly higher than normal.  She thought she might have successfully denied the charge.

“Well, you _seem_ to be quite fond of him.”

“He’s just my Chem partner, Sev.”  She knew Sev wanted to be her Chem partner but Slughorn had divided them into partners randomly.  Or maybe not entirely.  He had been sure to break up all the Marauders.  Especially Potter and Black.

“Oh, that’s good.  Would you like to go with me?”

Lily went to a lot of things with Sev.  So since she couldn’t go with her crush - who was incidentally just down the hall under slanted sunlight laughing with Glen and some Fifth Year - going with her friend seemed like a good consolation.  Besides, Remus _had_ promised her a dance.  Or two if she could finagle it.  “That would be great.”

The smile on Sev’s face was euphoric and it made Lily feel really good.  “Yeah, yeah it will.”

“HEY EVANS!”  Lily closed her eyes.  She didn’t have to turn around to see who was yelling at her in the busy hallway for everyone in the school to witness.  She really hated James Potter.

“Maybe we should--” Sev began before Potter was suddenly in front of them.  He was not alone.  At least twenty students had mobbed around him forming a human wall of adoration.  It was sickening.

“Evans.  I’m glad you agreed to be my date to the dance.” There was general tittering.  Potter couldn’t do anything without an audience.  

“I didn’t know I had,” she said through gritted teeth.  Her auburn brows rising in frustration.  It never stopped with him.  

“Your beautiful eyes were shooting _yesses_ at me all day.”

“You must have mistaken the daggers for interest.  You should get your eyes checked.”

“She’s going with me,” Sev said next to her.

“What was that Snivellus?  Did you hear something, Pads?”

“Perhaps the dulcet clap of flatulence, Prongs?”  

“She’s _going_ with me,” Sev said louder, more confidently.  Not unlike Lily, he had assumed a mask when dealing with Potter and his set.  He now looked bored.  But wary.

“Did you hear something?”  Potter repeated.  This time someone made a farting sound and there was general laughter.  Behind them, Lily could see Remus frowning.  

“Let’s go, Sev,” Lily said, taking his hand as they went to walk past Potter and Black.  They were almost through when Sirius knocked against Sev’s shoulder.  The posturing was beyond what Lily understood and she tugged at Sev’s hand when he stopped.  “Let’s go.”

*

The dance itself was not entirely a disaster.

Lily wore her floral dress.  She had grown three inches but it was too late to do anything about it. The hem was now two inches above her knee, no longer even long enough to pass the kneeling test.  She had already had Potter yell: _Nice legs, Evans_ across the room.  

The only redeeming moment of the night was when Remus came over to dance with her.  He had, in fact, come with Sirius.  Who had entered with his arm around Remus’ midsection, hip to hip.  Remus managed to just avoid the wet smack of Sirius’ lips before the shorter boy peeled away to dance with four girls at the same time.  Sev had gone for drinks when Remus finally found her.  “I warn you that I cannot dance.”

They danced to David Cassidy’s _Daydreamer_.  And no lie, Remus was a terrible dancer.  She was actually enjoying herself until Sirius Black yelled, “WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU SAY?”  Behind them, Dionne Warwick was begging them not to make her over.

_Don't pick on the things I say, the things I do_

Sirius had jumped over the refreshment table, spilling punch everywhere, and had disappeared into a sea of green and silver.  James was fairly close behind and a handful of Gryffindor behind him.  “Jesus Christ,” Remus swore as he turned to Lily with an apologetic look before moving towards the melee.  

_Just love me with all my faults, that way that I love you_

Potter jumped into the tangle of bodies and Lily could make out a couple of Fifth Year Slytherins:  Rozier, Carrow, and Jugson.  She’d had relatively little to do with them in general but knew that Sev often talked about them.  They were all involved in something called the White Society which almost sounded like some sort of a neo-nazi group to Lily.  But Sev had assured her that they were inclusive, Rozier’s father being a politician with the National Party.   _Would a politician actually support anything like that?_  

_I wouldn't change one thing about you_

“Stop this immediately!”  McGonagall and Flitwick were trying to get at the fighting students with limited success.  Lily heard McGonagall tell someone to fetch Hagrid and the Headmaster.  Remus had by this time thrown off two of the Slytherin on Sirius and hauled him off the floor.  Potter was pulled out by a Seventh Year Ravenclaw who had a death grip on his shirt collar.  Lily was shocked to see they had both been pretty seriously worked over with split lips and torn shirts.  Even Peter had the beginnings of a black eye.  Remus held Sirius tight against his chest, his arms straining against the furious boy as he physically pulled him away from the scene.  

As they were moving away, she saw Sev come up to them and take a swing at Sirius.  

Because he had turned, Remus took the punch instead.  His grip on Sirius slackened as he fell to the floor without making a sound.  Sev had hit him right in the neck and looked shocked.  She didn’t know if he was shocked he’d hit Remus or that he’d landed the punch.

_Accept me for the things that I do_

At this point, Hagrid had forced his way into the students and rounded up the offenders.  Sirius had gone down to his knees by Remus his hands on the side of his friend’s face.  Flitwick came over to them and quickly looked Remus over.  “Is he… alive?”  Sirius asked, his voice sounding slightly choked.  Lily assumed because he’d been fighting.  By this point, Lily reached Remus, her teeth worrying her lip as she looked down at him.

“He’s going to be fine, I think,” Flitwick said.  “But he’ll go to the hospital just in case.”

Potter had somehow wiggled out of McGonagall’s grasp to join them.  He noticed Lily and scowled at her.  “Why are you here?  Shouldn’t you be with your _friend_?”  There was so much venom in his voice that Lily was taken aback.  

Potter had never spoken to her like that before.

 

\---------------

  


_Sirius_

The gauntlet had been well and truly thrown.

No one - and he meant no one - who had the temerity to hurt Remus would survive the total destruction the Marauders would wreak on the Slytherins.

In truth, it would have taken just about any spark to start the war with Slytherin.

He had been relieved when Remus had cornered him about the party.  Despite the rumors of his conquests he really had no interest in the girls of Hogwarts.  His fellow Third Years had gone girl mad and James was the worst of all.  He couldn’t decide if he was in love with Evans (who Sirius thought was a lost cause) or a Fourth Year named Barbara (who was more receptive).  Or Agnes or Elizabeth or Nancy.  

Sirius thought girls were spotty and giggled too much.  He had, in fact, found that he was having issues in the boys’ shower.  Everything set him off.  His prick was embarrassingly indiscriminate, thickening at the least provocation. Although he was (hopefully?) successfully trying to smother it.  Due to this inconvenience, he continued to shower only with Moony.  Who never gave him a second glance and kept his towel in hand to preserve his modesty.  

But Sirius lived for the moments when Moony would walk from his stall and towards the racks where they hung their towels.  Completely unaware that he was being studied.  Sirius would ask him questions, whatever he could think of, to have him pause, towel in hand.  He was leggy and very lean.  But Sirius’ eyes were for his prick.  Thick and short with only the faintest edging of pubic hair.  Though he would _never_ talk about it (though thought about it often), Sirius had played around with Darius Blume, one of the Sixth Year Huffs, in the Greenhouses.  It had been strange and painful, but also rather mind blowing.  It had been better the second time and then the time after that.  It was only sex, of course, and Sirius had covered his tracks rather neatly by also involving himself in heavy petting with girls.  He didn’t mind this so much.  He just liked the other stuff more.

As oblivious as Remus was, Sirius had learned to enjoy the fruits of his labors in silence.  If you could cry without making a sound it was certainly possible to wank without making a sound.  

At the dance, Rozier had been spouting his nonsense about English purity, a topic near and dear to his bigoted heart.  That the Blacks subscribed to the same - and Sirius until he got to Hogwarts - was temporarily forgotten.  Carrow, whose family had made their money in trade, then said: _They’ll let anyone into Hogwarts these days._ They had then set out defaming not only Remus, but also Glenmare (who played rugby with James and himself), Wadid in her headscarf, and Selwyn for her disability. Severus - who was certainly one to talk - had agreed with them wholeheartedly.  

_That manky git._

And so Sirius had jumped them.  It didn’t matter that they were larger (Sirius was small for his age) or outnumbered him.  James was there in a moment, perhaps smelling the action, and then Wee was throwing biscuits at them.  

When Snape punched Remus in the throat all bets were off.

He started small.  Sirius, James, and Wee sewing the sleeves of all the Slytherin shirts closed through the small hours of the night.  Not all of them deserved it, but they couldn’t tell whose shirt was whose.  So every single shirt it was.  It had been mildly satisfying when they’d gotten detention for not adhering to dress code.  

James found a dead squirrel on the grounds and they put it in Rozier’s trunk immediately after Christmas Hols, deep enough that it wasn’t immediately obvious.  They didn’t find it until it had completely overpowered the dorm.  

Shoelaces were tied together.  Neither Sirius nor James had anything to do with this (they were, after all, only Third Years), although it was highly amusing to hear the accounts of Carrow and Jugson desperately clutching at each other to not fall over.

Wee, who was very sneaky when necessary, switched Sev’s History essay with one he had filled with utter nonsense.  Severus had very distinct penmanship - textbook copperplate - so it had taken a few tries to get it looking right.  

The Slytherins had retaliated.  

So Sirius put Sev, Rozier, Carrow, and Jugson’s mattresses in the pool.  This had been a team effort (even Glenmare had assisted).  But Sirius took the blame.  “I’m a Black, there’s no way they will expel me.”  He also took a lot of lashes for it.  He never told them about that.

On the last day before the end of the year, Sirius had (through the assistance of an anonymous Ravenclaw with red hair) managed to splice the reel to reel that Snape was going to use for a final presentation on the work of Mozart.  What he thought would be Sonata 11 ended up being an audio clip from the fart scene from Blazing Saddles.

It was delicious.

Which was why, on the train away from Hogsmeade and back to civilization, Sirius was upset that Remus did not appreciate his many efforts.

“I did it for you, Moony.  Why are you being like this?”

“Because one day, Sirius Black, you are going to cross a line that even you won’t be able to redraw.”  Of course the sting of Remus’ barb was mitigated somewhat by the fact that Sirius was laying with his head in Remus’ lap.  Sirius was often amazed by the easy intimacy they shared.  He had never been touched in a fond way until Hogwarts.  And while he didn’t trust it would last, he would fight for it with his last breath.

 

\------------------

 

_Peter_

Peter’s first crush was during Summer camp.  The Pettigrews thought it would be good for Peter to learn to enjoy the outdoors.  Of course, selecting an academically gifted camp had meant that hiking and swimming were electives.  Peter chose swimming just in case his parents asked.

Her name was Petula Bankson and he thought the amplification of her brown eyes through the lenses of her glasses only highlighted her beauty.  He had written an epic (it was four pages long) love poem in her honor.

Which his mother found while unpacking his trunk.

They held hands on the bus leaving camp.  Peter swore undying love.  Petula promised she would write.

She did write and when it came time to celebrate his birthday, he invited her to attend.

James, Sirius, and Remus attended.  This time, they had been granted special permission to stay the night.  The evening before they were set to arrive, Peter had overheard his parents speaking.  “That woman is a bear.  Did you know that she tried to blackmail me into ruling in favor of Riddle?”  This was a murder case upon which his mother was currently presiding.

“She actually asked you that?”

“Not in so many words,” he could tell his mother was agitated when she went straight to the whiskey.  He heard the rattle of the cups through the door.  She sighed.  “But at least he’s coming.  I would hate for Peter to not have his friends around for his birthday.  They’re hooligans,” Peter could hear that his mother was laughing, “But who wasn’t at that age?”

Petula did not, in fact, attend Peter’s birthday party.  He was heartbroken but thought he maintained a stiff upper lip.  Afterward, the Marauders played a game of Scrabble that Peter, inevitably, won.  Although James came pretty close with a hundred points less than Peter.  “I’m sorry she couldn’t come,” his father had said, finding Peter on the swing they kept in the back by the rose bushes.  His father loved the roses especially.  

“Oh, it’s alright.  I’m sure things came up.”

“Did I ever tell you about my first love?”  With rising horror, Peter realized that his father was winding up for one of _those talks_.  The ones that were simultaneously horrifying (to think of his parents as once being his age!) and excruciatingly embarrassing.  He had absolutely no interest in hearing about his father’s first love.  But couldn’t escape.  “She was my next door neighbor.”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!”  Peter said.  “Are you telling me that your first love was Mrs. Yeoh?”  This was too much.  He would have to look Mrs. Yeoh in the face over family dinners.  And know his father had once had feelings, feelings like he had for Petula, for her.

“Well, this was long before she married Benny of course.”

“Please don’t tell me you kissed her.  I cannot handle this information.”

Peter’s father looked a bit abashed.  “Well, I won’t say it, but I _thought_ I would marry her.”

“Does mum know this?”

“Well, she got me in the end, didn’t she?  And really, Peter, I was eight years old.”

He wasn’t sure what was more mortifying.  His father having a crush on Mrs Yeoh.  Or his equating Peter’s 14-year-old deep love of Petunia with a boy of eight.


	4. Chapter 4

**Fourth Year**

_Remus_

The History Society put on a production of Henry VI in the Spring of the Marauder’s Fourth Year.  Due to his height - and mostly male membership - Remus was cast as both Joan of Arc and the Countess of Auvergne.  “Oh!  Are they going to give you bosoms?”  James asked with more glee than Remus thought was strictly necessary.

“I think Remus would make a perfectly lovely girl,” Peter said before snorting.  “Oh what big shoulders you have Countess…”

“Oi!  I’m just big boned,” Remus said before laughing.  “If you lot would join History Society - which is good for your CV _by the way_ \- I wouldn’t have to do this.”

“I know you have no shame, Remus, but I have a hard enough time with girls.  I don’t want to completely rule out any shagging for the rest of my Hogwart’s career,” Peter said.  James and Sirius, who had been laying on his bed pretending to be dead after a rather grueling rugby scrimmage, started making kissing noises.  It was uncanny how in sync they were when it came to taking the piss.

“I have shame!”  Remus defended.  “But the Upper Years beat me out of the other roles.  And there is only one girl in History Club!”

“I for one look forward to seeing you in a corset,” Sirius said, his head upside down as he slunk down the side of his bed.  “You can borrow some of my socks to fill it out.”

Remus was not impressed.

The Marauders, who were complete wankers, pitched the play so hard that it was a sell out crowd.  It was only the day of the performance that Remus found one of the mimeographed posters touting: _See Remus Lupin in a dress!_  To say he was not amused was an understatement.

Although by right Joan of Arc would not be wearing makeup of any kind, the quick costume change necessitated that the History Society version would be.  Remus outright refused to add a bosom to his costumes despite James’ constant goading.  He was certain that one of the Marauders had bribed the costumer, a Fifth Year Slytherin, to suggest it.  More than once.  

Selwyn, who had volunteered to make Remus up, was particularly diligent at it.  An hour and a half later, she signed that he was _perfect_ .  He looked in the mirror and saw his mother.  It was uncanny.  Darkened brows highlighted his eyes, highlighting having made his face leaner and hid his squaring jaw.  His lips were pink - he had stalwartly refused red - and fuller than he was completely comfortable with.   _I look like my mother_ , he signed to Selwyn, who smiled.

 _Your mother must be very beautiful_.

Remus had smiled.   _She is most beautiful woman in the world… present company excepted, of course._  He stumbled on the delivery of the last, realizing he was probably being offensive and Selwyn snorted.

 _You’re such a wanker,_ the sign for that was fairly obscene.   _You should go get dressed_.   _There’s a line behind you._

Leaving the closet they had co-opted for makeup purposes, Remus darted into the hall and towards the dressing room.  Prongs, Pads, and Wee were waiting just outside, looking particularly conspicuous.  A manic look came over Prongs’ face as soon as he saw Remus, nudging Sirius, who turned to look.  A tight look crossed  Sirius’ face, lips compressed, as Remus neared them.  Peter whistled, a goofy smile on his face.

“What are you bastards doing here?  Players only.”

“We came to see our friend Moony’s bosoms.  But apparently found the fittest girl at Hogwarts.”

“Fitter than Evans?”  Peter ventured to ask and James punched his arm with a _Shut it, you_.

Sirius’ blank look turned into a very wicked one.  A look that usually preempted something mad.  “So, what are you doing after the play?  ‘Cause I was thinking that you and I could go back to my dorm…”

“That was actually the plan,” Remus said, walking right into Sirius’ net.

Sirius lecherously waggled his eyebrows to the merriment of everyone except Remus, who blushed.  His grey eyes were unreadable.  Remus arched a brow rather impressively before smacking Sirius shoulder without much ire.  Sirius caught his hand, pulled him close, and kissed him.  It was brief and wet causing Remus sputtered, “Jesus Christ, Pads!”

Unfortunately, James and Peter thought this was fantastic and followed suit.  “Hie thee to hell for shame, and leave the world, thou cacodemon _s_!”  Remus yelled, “You’re going to mess up my lipstick.”

“Things I never thought I’d hear my mate say…” James said as he wrestled Sirius and Peter down the hall back to the theatre itself.  “Let’s get a seat in the front row, so we can heckle Miss Wales 1975.”

Afterward, having indeed been heckled by three arsewipes in the front row, there were light refreshments compliments of the History Club advisor, the Headmaster himself.  

“Hey, Lupin,” Remus, who was in a discussion with Belvina Coleman over the perfect line of his brows, turned to find the Duke of Bedford, aka George Fawcett, walking over.  He was a lanky Fifth Year Slytherin who had been the impetus for the play as President of the History Society.  

“Hullo, Fawcett,” Remus rather liked him though they had rarely spoken a word to each other until he handed Remus his roles.

“You were fantastic out there,” Fawcett said with more fervor than Remus thought was warranted considering he’d only had a few lines.  Although the Joan of Arc monologue had turned out rather well.

“Thanks?  I only had a few lines…”

Fawcett’s gaze never left Remus’ face and Remus found him a little more intense than anyone else he knew, causing him to break eye-contact a few times.  “You should seriously consider…”

But whatever he was going to ask Remus to consider was lost as Sirius grabbed Remus by the waist and rather precariously pulled him over his shoulder.  He was still short, but burlier than the year before.  “Sorry, Fawcett, but I have to steal the leading lady.  Cheers.”  Fawcett looked baffled and Belvina livid as swinging Remus over his shoulder almost knocked her over.  Remus managed to get his head up enough, already red with the blood that was quickly flooding it, and offer a quick wave before grabbing Sirius’ hips.

“If you drop me Pads…”

*

_After Easter Hols_

As per usual, Remus was the first one back to their dorm after Easter Hols.  He had secreted his chocolate bunny for safekeeping but had pulled it out to just check on it… and ended up eating off an ear.  “At this rate, Rem, you're not going to have anything left by tomorrow,” he chided himself before grabbing the tea on the chest of drawers for a swig.  And tucking the bunny under his blanket.  Out of sight, out of mind?

When Sirius entered a room it was often with panache.  This time was no exception as he burst through the door with such force that it jumped against the wall.  Remus knew better than to greet him with the ever present Kreacher on his heels, trunk in tow.  The butler?  Servant?  He had no idea what to call Kreacher who was giving Sirius very dark looks when he thought Sirius wasn't looking while completely ignoring Remus.  This was fine with Remus who was more than a little creeped out by the man.

Sirius, who never gave Kreacher any mind, immediately stamped into the bathroom and shut the door.  

When Kreacher left and Sirius had been in the toilet for nearly an hour, Remus finally steeled himself to confront him.  The tea had done its work on his bladder and he was not going to the classroom wing to use the loo.  The toilet door did not lock, but Remus didn’t want to get punched in the face if he startled Sirius.

“Sirius?”  There was no answer so Remus paused a moment before saying again, “Pads?”  

“Leave me alone,” muffled through the door.

“I would love to, but I have to use the loo.”  

“Go away.”

Remus breathed deeply for a moment reigning in his impatience before saying, “Pads.  You can stay in there but I'm coming in to piss, mate.”

A moment passed and the door clicked although Sirius did not emerge.  Remus did not want to use the loo in front of Sirius but he also had to follow through on his threats else his dorm mates would run roughshod over him.  Thankfully the lights were off.

With no small measure of embarrassment, Remus opened his fly and made short work of it.  Somewhere near the corner Sirius said, “You said piss.”

Remus rolled his eyes but no one could see it.  “Are you four?”

Sirius humphed, not changing Remus’ opinion on his age.  Flushing and dropping the seat cover down, Remus sat down.  “So I've let this go by for three years, but I have unfortunately grown fond of you despite your best attempts to thwart me.”  Sirius did not laugh as Remus plowed on.  “But fuck it, Pads.  What the hell are they doing to you?”  Sirius was still quiet.  “Maybe my father could talk to…”

“No!”  Sirius almost yelled.  The sound reverberated in the tiled room.  

Remus went on, “You can live in our barn.  We have 168 ewes and 7 rams, so they would have difficulty finding you,” he could barely see Sirius’ eyes, but he had at least looked up.  “You might have to milk the ewes, though.  Because you’d have to earn your way.”

“You milk… sheep?”

“Yeah.  Every morning.  The sheep love it.  Sometimes they won’t get down off the stand.”  

“This makes perfect sense because I like it when I tug…”

Remus interrupted, “I’m going to lose even more respect for you that I don’t have if you continue.”

Remus then went into excruciating detail on milking sheep and sheep physiognomy.  Very non-sexy detail.

To the point that finally Sirius said, “Moony, you are cracked.”

“I know it’s not all posh, but this is why it’s so brilliant, right?  No one would suspect that you were living in a barn, milking sheep, and mucking stalls.”

“So I’m mucking stalls now?”

“Yes.  And doing my laundry.”  

“Your laundry.”  Sirius actually laughed at that.  “Remus why are you still in the loo?”

“Well,” Remus said, the toilet seat creaking as he stood up and walked towards the sound of Sirius’ voice and his vague outline, “You are my liege lord as per an oath made in Second Year.  My sword arm for a shirt.”  Remus put his arm around Sirius’ shoulders… and he didn’t shrug him away.  There wasn’t a lot of room for Sirius and Remus’ legs but somehow it worked.  “My job is to protect you, right?”  The last word hung between them and then Sirius threw his arms around Remus and buried his head in his neck.  It was not unpleasant, although Remus realized that Sirius had been crying as his t-shirt was getting wet.  Remus wrapped his arms around Sirius and just sort of held him.  After he’d cried himself out, snot and tears all over Remus, Sirius pulled back to wipe his face.  “Now, let’s get you washed up before James and Peter get back.  And I’ll even let you have the other ear of my bunny.”

Sirius gave him a look of horror.  “You’re going to tell me you’ve never had a chocolate easter bunny aren’t you?”  Remus asked and Sirius nodded.  “Well, you’re in for a treat, then, your lordship.”  

When Sirius came out of the bathroom, he had a bruise over the left side of his face.  It was blooming and would be with him for classes the next morning.  Remus hissed through his teeth, trying to keep his fury in check.  But it must have showed in his eyes and the tensing of his jaw.  “They don’t usually go for the face,” Sirius explained, disturbingly calm about it, although whispering.  “Too obvious.”

He wanted to kill whomever was hurting Sirius.  Instead, he enveloped a very startled Sirius in his long arms, careful not to touch his cheek.  After a beat, Sirius sort of gave into it.  “You sort of smell like sheep, Moony.”

Remus pulled back with a crooked smile.  “Well, I did milk sheep this morning, Sirius.  Let me tell you about it.”

When James and Peter came back later that evening, they found them in Remus’ bed surrounded by the foil remains of what had been a very delicious chocolate bunny.  Remus had had the foresight to not mentioned the Cadbury chocolates in his trunk.  Their legs were tangled, Sirius (as per usual) with his head in Remus’ lap.  They were both asleep.  

“Oi!”  James yelled, causing Sirius to jump up and fall off Remus’ bed.  “Moony have another fit?”  James sounded concerned, his eyes looking at the bruise on Sirius’ cheek.

Remus, who was much less groggy than his chocolate thieving sidekick, quickly said, “No.  But he threatened to wank right in the open so I hit him.”  James teetered on the edge of belief and disbelief, eventually saying,

“Moony, you said wank!”

 

\---------------------

 

_James_

On the evening of May 2, 1975 James Potter sauntered into the dorm with a braggadocio that even the Marauders had never witnessed before.  James had practiced in the hallway outside the common room so he would make the most spectacular entry ever.  “I have something very important to tell you,” he addressed them all.  And then waited for dramatic effect.

Peter was on his stomach on the rug by his bed writing an essay that had been due the day before.  Sirius was on his own bed (for once) painting his nails black and had only managed to spill the bottle once.  Remus was actually under the covers of his bed with only his eyes visible beneath the duvet.  He was, as per course, reading a book.  

When no one said anything - but he was certain he had their full attention - James proudly announced, “I would like to state that this finger,” he pointed his first finger into the air triumphantly, “And I mean, this finger, for the first time in James Potter history…”

“Get on with it Prongs,” Sirius said from the bed.  He swore a moment later when he smudged his nail on the pillowcase he was using to keep his fingers aloft.

“THIS FINGER,” James repeated, louder this time, and scowled at Sirius.  “THIS VERY FINGER has plumbed the depths of it’s first… vagina.”

Remus’ book fell on his head while Sirius laughed.  “You are such an amateur, Prongs.”

“We are not all precocious lordlings, Pads.”

It was Peter who asked, “What did it feel like?”

James looked down at him filled with what felt like the apple of knowledge itself.  Remus had stuffed his fingers in his ears.  He had still not moved the book from his face.  “It felt like…” James paused for a moment to really think about it.  “Well, it was kind of slimy and warm.”  Sirius was watching him with a smirk on his face and Peter was avid on the floor.  Remus still had his fingers in his ears.

“But what did it feel like?”

“It felt like…”  James closed his eyes while trying to come up with the closest approximation.  And then he hit upon it.  “It felt like chicken skin.”

Sirius was laughing so hard he upended the nail polish entirely, painting his bed in black lacquer.  “Now _that_ is a glowing recommendation, Prongs,” and then dove to retrieve the bottle.

“Oh my god,” Peter said.  “That is _so disgusting_.”

James screwed up his face trying to find the right words.  “Well, it’s not bad, right?  It’s actually quite nice.”

“Kinky, Prongs.”

“Shut it, you!”

“What does it feel like to you, Pads?”  Wee turned to address Sirius.

Sirius paused to consider for a moment.  James watching him intently.  “I’m not sure if I could do it justice like Prongs has.  I don’t have his mastery of the English language.”

“You are such a wanker.”

“At least I didn’t kill Remus,” Sirius said motioning with his chin towards Remus.  Who had still not removed the fingers from his ears.

“I am not dead,” Remus paused and then added, “But I wish I were.”

“I think I’m going to gold plate this finger,” James said, trying to draw attention back to himself.  “As a reminder of this momentous moment in the timeline of James Potter.”

“It’s never a good thing when you start referring to yourself in the third person, Prongs,” Remus said, carefully pulling the fingers out of his ears and then setting his book aside.  “It’s a sign of megalomania.”

“I am never going to wash this hand again.”  James started wagging the finger around and chased Peter around the room.  Peter was finally able to steal Pads’ pillow and use it as a shield.

“Ok, that’s it.  Budge over Remus.”  

“Why do I always have to budge over?  This is _my_ bed.”  Remus stretched his arms out to lay absolute claim to it.

“For one, Wee has just used my only pillow as a prophylactic thus sullying it forever.”  Sirius stated very matter of fact.  “And secondly, I can’t possibly use that duvet with nail polish on it.”

“Why can’t you share with Prongs or Wee?”

“I’m not sleeping with him,” Wee yelled breathily as he managed to deflect Prongs with Sirius’ pillow.  “He _drooled_ on my pillow.”

“My point,” Remus said.

“Although I would rather die than eat your hair, Pads, Moony does make a valid point.  Why is it that he always has to share with you?”  James stared directly at Sirius challenging him.  After four years of observation he had started to have his suspicions about Remus’ bed.  That it was the softest mattress in the dorm.  It must be the box spring (which was the only quiet one) because he had switched the mattress three times.  

“Because I am his Liege Lord.”  Remus snorted.

“I told you it was a bad idea to swear fealty to Pads, Moony,” James said, wagging his finger.

“You’ve lost all authority, Prongs.  I cannot take your...quim... finger… seriously.”

Three sets of eyes turned to Remus.  James felt his heart grow three sizes with utter respect for Moony.  “Well, Sir Quimfinger,” Wee said, looking at James.  

At the same time that James said, “You said quim, Remus!”

 

\--------------------

 

_Sirius_

During the week of June 5, Sirius came to several revelations.

First, black nails led to detention.  Secondly, arguing gender discrimination when one has not read the dress code of Hogwarts was bound to fail.  “I don’t care what you’ve got between your legs, Mr Black.  Nail polish is strictly against the dress code of Hogwarts.”

“You don’t understand.  I’ve invested a lot of time to this, Miss Grubbly-Plank.”

“And if you directed that time in a more appropriate direction we would not be having this conversation, Mr Black.”

Thirdly, wearing gloves to cover one’s fingernails after being explicitly told to not have them painted also led to detention.  It was also hard to write with gloves on.  This was not really a revelation, but a hard earned truth discovered in the depths of winter.  Hogwarts was a beautiful historic building but the scarcity of coal had had them reverting back to the original fireplaces.  Which did not agile fingers make.  

Fourthly came the most profound revelation of all.

The Marauders - and really most of the school - had gone out into the Park for the day, taking advantage of the sunshine and general apathy towards the end of term.  Prongs had forgotten the name of the girl who had christened his finger.  Wee had climbed a tree and was carving something on the trunk.  And Remus was under said tree.  Reading a book.

They had been sniping all day.  Sirius had woken up after a dream where he had Moony against the tile of the shower and his cock _inside_ him.  Which logistically wouldn’t work, but it was a dream.  Moony was giving out little moans of _Oh god, Sirius_ .  And that bastard’s alarm woke him.  Sirius’ bullocks _ached_ and he was painfully hard.  He sealed his eyes as tightly closed as he could hoping to catch the thread of the dream.  But it was lost.

With a heavy sigh - the bastard himself probably having already fallen back asleep - he rucked down his pants and pulled himself into one of the most intense orgasms of his life.  Outside of the soft fap of his hand, he made no noise.  Although his lip had made the ultimate sacrifice.

After a forced march by Prongs, he had spent the morning watching Remus play with his shirt collar.  It was hot now, so close to Summer.  

So, sitting under the tree with a book, Sirius threw a stick at him.

“Stop doing that.”

“Stop reading!  You should be taking advantage of this fine day.”

“I _am_ taking advantage of this fine day,” Remus noted, holding his book aloft.  “Or I would if you would stop throwing sticks at me.”

“I think the two of you need to fight it out,” Prongs said - almost certainly for his own amusement - on the lawn besides Sirius.  “You’ve been going at each other all day.  I think it’s some sort of a dominance thing.”  For a moment, Sirius was certain James had said _romance_ and not dominance.

Remus rolled his eyes.  “We’re not dogs, Prongs.  Well, at least _I’m_ not.”  There was a mote of humor in Remus’ green eyes.  

“Challenge accepted!”  Sirius said, unholy grin on his face, before he grabbed Remus’ book and flung it away.  It came perilously close to the lake and Remus tried to stand up indignantly.  But Sirius had got hold of his wrists and he was quite a bit stronger than he had been at eleven.

“That’s a _library_ book, Pads.”

“Don’t worry, it didn’t land in the lake,” Peter said helpfully from above them.  James continued to watch them indulgently - when not trying to make eyes with a very disinterested Evans.

Sirius had not forgotten the lesson of Prongs’ First Year downfall.  He immediately got Remus’ legs out from under him.  Remus had had the same idea and then ended up in a heap of Fourth Years rolling down the slope towards the lake.

“Do you think they’ll fall in?”  James asked Peter.

“Probably.  I’m just wondering if Sirius is going to die.”

“Money on Moony, then?”

“Do you - of all people - have to ask that questions?”

“Fair.”

When they eventually stopped tumbling down the slope, Sirius was laughing.  And Remus.  Remus had a look of intent, probably deathly, on his face.  His cheeks were pink from heat and exertion and his eyes were very green.  And he had grass in his blond curls.  Which were thoroughly tousled.  

And a thought filtered through his head.  Popping through from his unconscious dreamscape.

 _I want to kiss him._  He’d never had that inclination before.  Sex was sex.  And kissing was for… well, something else anyway.  Sirius _couldn’t_.  So he did the next best thing and licked the side of Remus’ face.

And then Remus kicked out his legs again and they both ended up in the Lake.

Sirius did not die that day.

Nor was Remus kissed.

 

\-----------------------

 

_Lily_

Lily had a fondness for Fizzy Cherry Cola Bottles but not always the pocket money to indulge.  Their neighbors, the Wrights, had two children that she tended for 50p per hour.  But she was saving for the fabric for two new dresses, stockings, and to put some aside for the school year.  So she was surprised when Sev dropped a bag of the bottles on her stomach with a somewhat sweaty, “Here, Lils.”  His family was even less well off than hers.  Sev lived in an estate and she had once overheard his mother discussing a late packet from the social fund.  He was very sensitive about money, so she tried to never discuss it.

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that, Sev.”  

“I wanted to,” he said with a smile holding a bag of the black licorice whips he liked.  His nose and shoulders were pink, probably sunburned.  They had opted to spend the day at the local pool and had snagged two very good chairs and since Sev didn’t swim, he safeguarded them.  Lily wasn’t permitted to wear a two-piece, which she desperately wanted to do, and was in her regular blue one piece.  

“Well thank you then.”  He’d been doing that a lot in the past few weeks.  Offering to pay for movie tickets, sweets, little things that they usually split.  She hadn’t really noticed at first, but it was starting to add up.  “I’m going to go in again,” she said, standing, before touching his shoulder.  “And then we should probably go before we get incinerated.”

The public pool was usually swamped in the Summer and today was no exception.  Lily splashed and laughed and envied the older girls in their two-pieces.  She would suffer a stomach burn for the privilege.  But not the wrath of her mother.

When Lily got back to the deck chairs, Sev had two cold fizzy colas waiting.  She knew it was a sore subject but she was bursting at the seams.  “Sev, how are you affording this?”

“Affording what?”  His cheeks colored.

“All...this…”  She motioned to the gummies and colas.  

“It’s complements of Mr Baba.”  

Mr Baba was a local shop owner near Spinner’s End where Sev lived.  He had been there for years and always had a sweet when children came in.  “Did you get a summer job?”  Lily relaxed visibly.

“In a manner of speaking.”  

“That’s great.  You should have told me,” Lily smiled, pulling her dress over her swimsuit.  It was about a mile to her house where she usually got lemonade for the both of them before Sev had to head home.  Towel over her shoulder, the two trudged up the hill to Lily’s neighborhood.  “How do you like it?”

“Oh, it’s been pretty...easy.”

“You don’t think he needs someone else, do you?  I’m fairly well versed in--”

“NO!”

Lily was taken aback by the force behind the single word.  Her brows clouded.  “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“No, no…”  Sev amended quickly.  “It’s just that… it’s not the sort of work I think you should be doing.”

Lily had her hands balled on her hips in an instant.  “So you think I’m incapable of doing something that you can do?”  

“Lily--”

“Don’t you Lily me, Severus Snape.  I’m _twice_ the worth of any man.  And certainly more than a _boy_.”  She felt his back come up.  She didn’t know what was going on with Sev, but he had been acting increasingly stranger as the Summer progressed.  He had never intimated that he thought she was _just a girl_.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then how did you mean it?”

“Can’t we just let it go?  I’m sorry.  Really I am.”  He looked contrite, more than contrite, as she continued to just be angry.

“I’m going home, Sev.  I’ll see you later.”  She turned and started walking away from him.

“Lily, wait!”  She didn’t.  “Lily!”

Later that night, after a late dinner Lily and Tuney put together, the four of them sat down to watch _Are you being Served?_.  Tuney would knit while Dad had a beer.  He only ever had one.  Mum usually fell asleep on the couch.  

“How’s your chest, love?”

“Just indigestion, I’m sure.”  He said.  “Did you hear that Mr Baba’s shop was robbed last week?”  

Edina tsked.  “I don’t know what Cokeworth’s coming to when a decent person gets robbed in his own store.”  And then as she always did after hearing something like this turned to Lily and Tuney.  “You girls take care.  This used to be a good family town.  But there are some very bad characters around these days.”

 

\---------------------

 

_Peter_

During the Summer Hols before Fifth Year, Peter celebrated his birthday only with family.  The Potters had rented a house in Greece for two weeks and Peter, Pads, and Moony were joining Prongs for a week.   It had been a topic of much discussion for most of Easter Term.  Remus had been wary about the cost.  Sirius had promised to put Remus in his suitcase.  James had blustered about how his parents would be able to convince the Lupins.  

But it was Peter who suggested, “I think you’re looking at this all wrong, Remus.”  

“Oh?”

“Yes.  This is a priceless learning opportunity.  An excellent chance to learn about the language and culture of the people.  Certainly something that would look very good on your CV for University.”  Through whatever processes Remus had to run through his brain to make the situation acceptable, they had managed to secure his joining them.  Although it had helped that Mrs Potter had sent a letter to the Lupins.

Sirius was easy.  For once.  His Uncle Albie would also be there and had promised to safeguard Sirius’ good comportment.   _More fool, him_ , Peter thought.  

But Remus had come.  And would have held Peter’s hand in a death grip for the four hour trip if he hadn’t managed to trade seats with Sirius.  James would have done it, but Sirius sprang out of his seat first while James chuckled.  Peter had been mortified that the stewardess would think he was a baby.  He wasn’t quite fifteen, but he was very close.  Instead he fell asleep next to James with Sirius reiterating that Remus was not, in fact, going to die.  Somehow Sirius had swung it in his favor.  As they disembarked the plane, James and Sirius were crowing about the glass of champagne Sirius had earned for “being such a good friend.”  

James seemed to know all the girls.  They swarmed to him like moths to a flame and James definitely knew he was a flame.  Peter studied him carefully to try to replicate his confidence with some success.  He had always been a quick study.  

Sirius had swum until he was brown except under his trunks.  They knew he wasn’t brown under his trunks because at the least provocation he would swim without his pants.  But to his credit, James had started it.  Peter eventually relented, but Remus would not take his swim trunks off no matter what.

And Peter realized that he did not like being on a boat.  It was nothing like his grandfather’s lake pontoon that puttered around at about 5mph.  But he did enjoy the long lazy days on the beach.  

Which was why he was starting to regret having told Remus about the educational opportunities.

“I’ll wake you up, don’t worry,” Remus insisted after convincing everyone to go to Athens.  He even had a guidebook.  For which they would have to be up by 5am.  Peter wasn’t sure he had been completely awake when he’d agreed - so questioned the validity of his perceived agreement.  

Sirius’ Uncle had threatened to rent a boat after hearing that they would be taking the public ferry.  But had relented only if they brought his man with them.  Peter had never had a bodyguard.  His mother had, particularly after being elevated to the position she had.  There had been a lot of threats.  Sirius and James had gnashed their teeth as they continued to reiterate that they were fifteen and old enough to go alone.  In the end, being allowed to go by public ferry mollified them.  

On the ferry over, Remus had shown them all his complicated schematics for taking in the historical sites in the two days they were allotted.  He had shared the information with the bodyguard, Ned, the evening before.  Ned really liked Remus.  The Potters had secured a hotel room for them.  Peter did not consider costs too much as not only had he been drawing an allowance (earned via chores) since he was very young but the Potters had suggested that all the boys throw their money in a communal pot for which to cover everything.  

Despite himself, Peter ended up having an excellent time.

Their hotel room had two kings which they allotted Remus/Peter and James/Sirius.  But they all ended up on the floor in a pile of blankets and pillows dubbing TV and sharing a bottle of wine.  They had discovered moments before procuring said wine that Sirius had a fake ID.  Procured from a Sixth Year Slytherin who had apparently overlooked Sirius’ reign of terror for cold hard cash.  For all intents and purposes Sirius was 18 year old Steven Boardman of England.  He made them all call him Stubby for veracity sake.

As Ned was not their legal guardian, he did not interfere with what might have been a bad idea.

“I’m getting one as soon as I get back to Hogwarts,” James decided on the spot.  

“Isn’t it sort of… unethical?”  Remus, as the voice of reason, had asked.

“You’re going to drink the wine aren’t you?”  James asked with his habitual lopsided grin.  

“I got an extra one, just in case,” Sirius told them when he returned.  “Although they didn’t even card me.”  He was disappointed about the last.

The swimming after two bottles of wine was probably not their best idea.  Although after two bottles of wine they did get Remus to take off his swim trunks while singing _You Ain’t Seen Nothing Else_ (they were doing the singing).  

Only James knew all the lyrics.


	5. Chapter 5

**Fifth Year**

_Peter_

The highlight of Peter’s Fifth Year, well, _third highlight_ after being selected first chair Tenor and finally getting a spot in a Scrabble qualifier in Leeds for the 1976 Quarter Finals, was the morning that James Potter woke up spotty.

October 10, 1975 dawned cold.  Brisk with a light breeze from the North (as per usual).  It was the sort of weather you could feel through two wool blankets and wool pajamas.  The scratchy kind.  Peter took meticulous notes in his planner and had noted that an English midterm was due just before break.  Prongs was up first.  He would plod over to Pads’ bed, grab his leg, and bodily roll him to the floor.  He had put a pile of pilfered pillows, mostly from the Slytherin common room, there for that very purpose.  The Rugby team had early morning runs and Sirius would never wake up otherwise.  Inevitably, the sound of Sirius crashing to the ground would wake Moony up.  Moony was not a morning person.  He would yell at James - who would remind him that he’d put the pillows down for this very reason - and eventually tell them all to _fuck right off_.  It would sound more like: _faff ait iff_ because he was still asleep and Sirius was inevitably smothering him with a pillow at this point.  Sometimes Pete did the smothering because Sirius was still lying on the ground.

Eventually, Peter would pull himself together.  This entailed a carefully created regime that had kept him spot free since a disastrous Third Year.  He had not heard the end of the catcalls when going to bed with a face mask.  But one had to do what one must.  Sadly this included not eating chocolate.  But it made them more useful for bribing Moony.

Peter was fairly certain that Pads did not shower after the run.  He had said once that his natural aroma was illegal in four countries for its aphrodisiac properties.  To prove it, he had pushed his armpit into Remus’ face asking _Does this not turn you on?_  The consensus was still out as Peter tried to stay well away from Sirius’ armpits.  And James had threatened to break his arm.

James, however, did shower.  When he was back in the room in his towel, skin goose pimpled from the air, he was frantic.  Eyes blown, cheeks red.  “This is the end of life as I know it.”

“Is everything alright?” Moony had roused himself to be genuinely concerned.  Although he had not stopped trying to squeeze too many books into his rucksack.

“Did someone steal your hair products, Prongs?”  Sirius had done so on many occasions.  Some of which had never been seen again.

“I. Have. A. Spot!”  James was frantic by this point, showing everyone his spot - which was an angry red mark on his chin - and simultaneously trying to hide it.  “Wee,” he turned to Peter then, who had been much castigated for his products.  “You are my last hope.”

“You’ve only been in the showers for twenty minutes, Prongs.  How have you exhausted all hope in that short a time?”

“Now is not the time for levity, Wee.”  James had gone into Captain Mode - which he was cultivating for a (very hoped for) spot as Captain of the rugby team - which they all found very annoying.  Usually because he would command them to pick up his socks.  Or do his homework.   _C’mon, men, we must all pitch in for a common goal..._

“It’s just a spot, Prongs,” Remus sighed.  “We’ve all had them.”  Which was not strictly true.  Despite spending a great deal of time eating chocolate and keeping his face smushed into a pillow, Moony’s complexion was fantastic.  Peter hated him for it.

“It is not just a spot!”  James had found a hand mirror somewhere and had it trained on his chin.  “This is a national disaster.”

“I hardly think Liz is going to call up the fire and rescue services to aid you in your time of need,” Sirius offered drolly from his position by his bed.  He was currently spraying on enough deodorant to asphyxiate a small nation.  “Do I smell alright?”

“If you put your armpit on my face one more time, Pads…” Moony sort of let his threat hang there, unspoken.  

“Wee, do I smell alright?”  

“Lovely as always, Pads.”  Peter didn’t want his armpit in his face either.  Hoping to avoid James’ nuclear meltdown, Peter considered his options.  It was too late for most of his products.  The pore was clogged and could only be ameliorated at this point.  Peter went to his post-breakout options.  Visine and powder it would have to be.  “Prongs, I can assist you. But it will cost.”

“I’ll give you anything.”

“Physics homework for the rest of term.”  James was ace at physics.  “And... “ Peter quickly added before James had sealed the deal.  “You have to put in a good word for me with Sally Churchingham.”  

“Sally… Churchingham?”  It was clear James had no idea who she was.

“Patty Durand is quite chummy with her,” Peter reminded him.  “The girl you are currently seeing?”

After Remus abandoned them for bartering innocent third parties and Sirius abandoned them for Remus, Peter got down to work.  When he was done, Peter was quite pleased with himself.  You could barely see the blemish except in certain lights.  “Just don’t touch it.  You’ll only make it worse.”

James’ gratitude was rather heartening.  When he gave it, he really meant it.  

And Peter ended up seeing Sally Churchingham for the remainder of the year.  A good outlet for what lay before them.

 

\----------------

 

_An expression of regret — this, usually, is the actual “I’m sorry.”_

_Remus_

“Moony!”

The voice was muffled through the train windows, clasped against the mid-March winds that swept down from the mountains to the West.  Remus, who had secured his trunk overhead, turned away from it.  Instead he took a window seat worn from years of students on the Hogwarts trunk.  He wondered how many of those students had been expelled from Hogwarts College.  He couldn’t possibly be the first.

“REMUS!”  

“I wonder whether they’ll know why I’m back before the end of Term,” Remus said to no one, the only person in the compartment.  Had the letter arrived in Bleven already?  He hated to think of how disappointed his mother would be.  The nearest State school would be a long walk and he would probably have to set up in town.  He could probably talk his way into casual employment to cover room and board.  

Due to the College’s storied existence, the train passed through Hogsmeade once per day, although it wouldn’t fill until Menzies two stops before Remus switched to a westward travelling line.  At least he would be home for Easter Hols.  Outside, he could still hear Sirius calling after him, not surprisingly breaking even more school rules having skived off classes and come down to Hogsmeade.  He was in no mood to look at Sirius, let alone talk to him.  He had always thought him careless and sometimes endearingly spoilt, unlike James who could be exasperatingly spoilt.  But recent events had revealed a cruelty that Remus didn’t think Sirius was capable of.  Although he had never thought it possible, Remus’ sympathy for the Earl of Grimmauld actually had its limits.  It was a good thing to know.

He turned as something - Sirius’ fist - hit the window rattling it in the dry caulking.  Dark hair wild, cheeks flushed, the boy stood on the platform, his face twisted in anger.  “Remus!  Open this window or I will come aboard!”  Even in light of everything, Sirius was imperious.  He was absolutely sure he would be obeyed.  Perhaps as sure as he was that he could attempt homicide without consequence.  

Of course, he had been right about that.

He hit the window again.  Remus highly doubted that Sirius would actually get on the train, particularly as the conductor had just sounded the all aboard.  “Will you at least look at me?”  Remus _almost_ turned.  Sirius’ voice was choked and thick and while it was probably painted by anger Remus’ imagination tried to convince him it was due to tears.  He had always had a weakness for Sirius.  His bruises and bravada.  The meat of Remus’ right palm throbbed under the downward stab of his nails.  

Though he ran alongside, throwing out his “Sorries” to the moving train, Remus lost sight of him fairly quickly, turning only once towards the dark haired speck on the edge of the platform.  It was perhaps his last look at Hogwarts College.

And his last look at Sirius Black.

*

When he reached Bleven Remus was greeted with general astonishment by his Gran and Ma, father and Taid out for lambing.  “Remus, why are you home?”  He went down to his knee and put his head in his mother’s lap and confessed.  She ran her long fingers through his hair while Nain heaped invectives on the British.

“I knew we should not have sent you to them.  I would not trust a cull ewe to their wiles!”  And then Cymraeg rolled off her tongue hot and liquid.  Her words were not fit to print.

“Well, your father will be happy to see you,” his mother said.  “And you are home for your birthday.”

The letter having arrived from town only moments before Remus himself, it was the focus of their supper.  “So you’ve been expelled for endangering the life of a fellow student.”  Not a person at the table thought Remus capable of doing anything of the sort.  “The Headmaster writes that despite the involvement of other students you were the only one punished.  Did you take the blame for these boys?”

“They admitted their guilt, Father.”

“But no doubt their _families_ protected them from punishment.”  Taid was of the same mind as Gran, who was ready to drive to Hogwarts College and take on the powers that be single handedly.  He wouldn’t put it past her to take a shot at Lord Carrow himself as militantly home rule as she was.  

“I suppose we’ll have to budget for you to attend school outside Bleven,” his father finally said, folding up the letter and setting it on the table.  

*

On the Friday following Remus’ 16th birthday, the Headmaster of Hogwarts College walked up to the gate of the Lupin farm and knocked on the door.  This was the first time he had ever been and was conspicuous in his dark brown corduroy blazer and trousers.  The gamekeeper and sometimes chauffeur, Hagrid, was at the wheel of the College’s Phantom.  Dumbledore had stopped to ask directions in Bleven and only by the grace of being an academic linguist and purchasing a wheel of very fine cheese was he able to convince the shopkeep into divulging the directions to the Lupin residence.  

To say his arrival was a sensation would be an understatement.  Fortunately, Remus’s mother answered the door and invited him inside.  While he and a very silent Hagrid took tea and scones in the Lupin’s tidy parlor, Remus’ mother fetched Remus from the barn.  

Remus hastily removed his wellies and washed his face and hands from the cold water pump outside.  When he finally presented himself to Dumbledore, his face was red, his hair damp, and he was in a much patched jumper.  His mother had given his hand a squeeze and he could feel her standing in the next room, in range should he need her.  “Mr. Lupin,” Dumbledore said, very carefully setting down the fragile tea cup.  “I apologize for not having notified you of my arrival, although I must say these are particularly fine scones.”

“My Mother makes them fresh,” Remus said, somewhat lamely, as his brain tried to reconcile the serious Headmaster with the Dumbledore who was sitting in his parlor.  His English was always softer, sweeter when he was in Bleven.

“Quite lovely.  I shall have to get the recipe.  It would certainly improve the breakfast fare at Hogwarts, what?”  Remus did not respond.  He did not know how to.  Dumbledore seemed to collect himself.  “As you may have surmised, I have come on official Hogwarts business.”

“I had supposed, sir.”

“My business here has to do with the distasteful happenings of two weeks ago.”  Dumbledore coughed and then continued, “As you know - and if you don’t, I and your House Matron do - you are an excellent scholar and the epitome of what a Hogwarts Scholar _should_ be.  While in your situation grounds for expulsion are clear in the guidelines of the College, there is cause for Headmaster’s discretion in all rulings pertaining to students.”

“As of --” he looked at his watch, “yesterday morning all parties involved have admitted to their involvement.  After review, it appears that the Board’s decision to expel you from Hogwarts was somewhat… hasty.  Lord Carrow has put in his resignation on account of it.  With the Board of Governors, helmed by Barrister Pettigrew, we have all come to the amicable decision to suspend you until Easter Term upon which you will resume your studies at Hogwarts.  With, I hope, a greater appreciation for school rules.”

Remus was certain his mouth was hanging open and he closed it with a snap.  “And my Scholarship, sir?”

“Your Scholarship would have terminated were you to be expelled.  As you are no longer expelled, your Scholarship will continue as awarded.  You will maintain your position as Prefect and there will also be no record of this malfeasance in your files.”

“I--” Remus blushed furiously.  This was far more than he could have ever expected.  “I--thank you, sir.”

Dumbledore waved him off.  “In any way, I believe the History Society’s staging of _Lysistrata_ would be greatly injured by your not returning to Hogwarts.  I was a great fan of your Countess of Auvergne.”  

“Thank you, sir.”

It was at this time that Remus’ grandmother arrived and a sound thrashing with her broom was only averted by Dumbledore’s charm and Remus interjecting himself in the path of her wrath.

 

\-----------

 

_An explanation (but, importantly, not a justification)._

_James_

“I’ve the keys from Moony.  Meet you at the Lockers in fifteen?”

James looked down at the mountain of work in front of him: half finished essays, a handful of Moony’s careful notes, and the egg named (compliments of Lily Evans) ‘James Potter is a Prat’ or Prat for short whom he was parenting for the next two weeks. Much of which, except for Prat, were unlikely to be finished until the last minute.  “I can’t believe he gave you the keys.  You must have promised him your first born.”

“He would probably have taken baby Prat.  In omelette form.”  Sirius tried to snatch it from the table, but James was quicker.  “Besides, the only children Moony will ever be carrying are mine.”

God.  Sirius was such a knob about Moony.

“Beyond something called biology, it is highly unlikely as Glennys Mulciber is his partner.”  Sirius pulled a face.  Glennys always smelled of camphor and stole pens.  And like many girls in Fifth Year, she was quite taken with Remus J. Lupin.  James would be offended (he _was_ a Potter) if he wasn’t sure that Remus was completely unaware that XX equated to breasts and legs.  It lent a great deal of hilarity to the whole situation that Remus did not get.  “We both know that one day Moony will transcend us and go onto a fantastic career correcting the misdeeds of students while married to Helen Mirren.  The love of his life.”  The piss had most certainly been given when Remus had borrowed Peter’s _Penthouse_ to read an article about the actress, despite asserting that it was only to read the article.   _Of course_.

“She is not good enough for him,” Sirius reminded James.  This was not the first time he had made his position clear.

“Your crush on Moony is so precious,” James intoned, tucking Sirius under the chin.  He was rewarded with a smack upside the head.

“I’m going ahead.  Fifteen.”

Peter joined him a few minutes later still damp from his shower.  He was of the belief that if he showered before joining them for a smoke in the locker room the odor of his misdeeds would not travel with him.  They had all stopped trying to argue his reasoning.  

James made it to the Locker Room only slightly later than usual, Prat tucked neatly into the crook of his arm.  He had taken to putting the egg in a knee-high sock that he’d fashioned into a crude sling and it was with him as he arrived, only moments after Pete.  Remus would not be joining them as he was revising for Chem.  With Evans, the mother of his egg-child.   _I don’t care what you’re getting up to tonight, Potter.  I am a working mother and cannot be saddled with childcare while you sit on your arse._  She took a vindictive pleasure in separating Moony from Marauder influence that James found endearing.  And a nose for Marauder troublemaking that was annoying.

Pete perked up when he saw James.  “No Pads, though,” he noted, having made himself comfortable on one of the notoriously uncomfortable benches.  They couldn’t turn on the lights and in the half-light the Lockers were an entirely different place.  Full of shadows and the thick pungent scent of used jockstraps and shower mildew.  “He has it,” the it in question being a Class-B restricted substance that was surprisingly easy to obtain when living with posh teenagers.  

They waited a while, chatting companionably, until Sirius arrived.  

“Where have you been?”  James asked.  The hem of Sirius’ trousers were damp, his cheeks ruddy.

“I think, finally, that Snape is in over his head.”  The enmity between the dyad of James and Sirius vs Snape had only grown exponentially since First Year.  Sirius adhered rather strictly to _eye for an eye_ reasoning.  Severus had been getting particularly shirty as far as Remus was concerned.  And James surmised, in a rare stroke of emotional brilliance, that it was due to Evans’ break with the boy and her friendship with Remus.  Carrow and his ilk had made something of a pet of Snape and the whole lot of them had fallen into the White Society line.  Anti-immigration, anti-queer, anti-disability, anti-women.  James had never given much thought to whether he was for or against anything.  But he couldn’t help but take the Society personally.  

“Shite, is Snape on rounds tonight?”  James had no idea how Severus had been selected to be a Prefect but he took particular pains to try to thwart the Marauders.

“Laps, maybe.”  Sirius said offhandedly, a rather unattractive grimace lighting his face.  

“Sirius…” Pete said, his eyes growing large with dawning realization.  “Snape can’t swim.”

James pushed Sirius aside as he ran out of the Locker Room.  He heard nothing in the water, ominous silence, before he could see him.  Still fully clothed, he jumped into the pool and swam towards the sinking figure.  He managed to somehow get a hand on him and prise him from the pool, wet clothes making him four times heavier than the scarecrow thin boy usually was.  Pete was at the edge of the pool, pulling up where James was pushing up.  When they managed to roll him out, Peter checked his pulse before he started administering CPR.

All the while, Sirius watched from the side of the pool, his dark eyes large and horrified.  James wasn’t sure what Sirius _thought_ would happen, but he was relieved that he appeared to be horrified by his actions if incapable of doing anything.

“Sirius, you fucker, go get someone!”  As if jump started, Sirius ran out of the Pool and towards the Teacher’s quarters.  

Things happened very quickly after.  The pool was swarming with teachers and Severus was transported to the hospital.  James, Peter, and Sirius were brought to the Headmaster’s office for questioning.  

Dumbledore - and the Gryffindor Matron, McGonagall - were able to get the story out of them.  The borrowed keys (Remus had gainsaid their admitting they had stolen his keys), the locker room after hours plans, Sirius running into Snape and ultimately offering to show him what they were up to.  At the mention of the keys, Dumbledore had Remus sent for.  His face was ashen as he took in the seriousness of the situation.  Peter’s bent head, James’ wet hair, and Sirius’ dark eyes.  And James could see when Remus understood, _really_ understood what had happened.  He refused to look at Sirius and sat to Peter’s left with a heaviness that was not natural to him.  

Parents were notified, except for Remus’ who did not have a phone.  

Everyone, with the exception of Remus, returned to the Dorm that night knowing that they had been involved in something _very bad_ , something that _crossed the line_.

“We’re sure to be expelled,” Peter said wetly into his pillow.  “My mother is going to kill me if my grandfather doesn’t get there first.”

“At least Remus is well shot of it,” James said from his bed.  “He wasn’t anywhere near the Pool.  He’d lose his Scholarship for something like this.”

“Where is he?” Sirius asked with a small, hollow voice that James only made out due to how quiet he and Pete were.  

“I suppose he’s with Dumbledore.”  James couldn’t help but give Sirius a sideways look.  He often took his comfort with Remus - James and Pete were shite at it - and he couldn’t believe that he would have thought it was remotely okay to lean on Remus now.  Now that it was _his fault_.  “What were you thinking?”

But Sirius said nothing, face down on Remus’ bed.

 

\------------

 

_An acknowledgment of responsibility._

_Remus_

“Don’t let your softness cloud your judgement, Dumbledore.  It is important to root out the insouciant proclivities of the poor, else we set a precedent that will tarnish these hallowed halls.  They are lucky to have been accepted into such a fine institution.”  Remus did not recognize the gentleman - and he _was_ a gentleman - through the gap in the curtains surrounding his bed.  He felt wrecked, not usual for days after a _grand mal_.

“I must be mistaken, Carrow, as it vaguely sounds as if you are attempting to threaten me,” Dumbledore’s voice had the breezy unaffectedness that it always had.  The powder blue suit, though impeccably tailored, did not really evoke confidence.  Nor the waist length white hair, now drawn into a very neat queue.

“Hardly, Dumbledore,” Lord Carrow - Remus placed him now, he was Nigel Carrow’s Uncle and held a seat in the House of Lords - said just as cooly.  As if he hadn’t just held, drew, and played the social class card.  In the hospital wing of Hogwarts College.  “Merely that this sort of behavior is to be expected of _certain_ people.”

“I am impressed with the speed by which the Board of Governors convened a session regarding the matter, Carrow.  However, I assure you that I have the matter well in hand.”

“And that is why the Board met, Headmaster.  To reinforce your judgments on the matter as relates to the strict guidelines of the College.”  Carrow nodded to a slender man standing just behind him, who unlatched a case and extricated a small leather portfolio.  “As such, all of the Governors have signed off on Lupin’s expulsion.”

Remus gasped, immediately drawing his hand over his mouth.   _Expulsion?  Had the others already been sent down from Hogwarts?_  A soft hand touched Remus’ shoulder and he turned to look at Evans.  A tousled, grit-faced Evans who put her finger to her mouth to quiet him.  For a moment disappointment lanced through him.  It was usually Sirius who he woke up to.

But Sirius had tried to kill Severus.

Had he borrowed the keys - Remus’ responsibility as Prefect - with the intent to do this?  And something in him just crumbled.  Possibly a core of Remus’ foundation.  Making his breath, his heart at risk for collapse.  

“This is not, perhaps, the best place for this discussion, Carrow.  Shall we convene to my office?”

Evans waited until they were truly gone before saying anything.  “How are you feeling, Rem?”

“Alive,” Remus attempted a smile for her, although even he could tell it didn’t reach his eyes.  “Have you been here long?”  Remus’ voice was rusty with disuse and cautious.  Evans would certainly know, now, he wasn’t _normal_.

“Oh, on and off since Wednesday.”

Remus brought his hands to his face.  “What day is it?”

“Friday. You’ve been in and out.  Pomfrey almost had to call for an ambulance, but you came out of it before she had to make the call.”  Evans was as calm as if this sort of thing happened all the time and smiled at him when he was back in control of his body and Pomfrey had washed him up.  “Don’t worry, I didn’t see your _manhood_.”

“Oh God…”  Remus didn’t want anyone to see him when he’d lost control of his facilities.  Let alone Evans.  “How did they even let you in here?”

“All things considering, no one _didn’t_ let me in.  I think only Potter, et al were on the _Do Not Admit_ rolls.”

“Is he alright?  Severus?”

Lily sighed, a long drawn out sigh.  “I think so?  I’m not exactly part of his select circle these days.”  Lily gave him a tight, shaky laugh.  “But he was at Dinner last night.”  She ran a hand through her red hair.  “They can’t expel you.  You didn’t do anything!  If anyone should be expelled it’s Black.”

“Was he?”  

Lily made a bitter sound.  “The Blacks were up here this morning.  Detentions for all of them.  They weren’t even suspended.  God, it’s some sort of a lark for all of them.”

Remus was aware of a sick feeling in his stomach that had nothing to do with hunger or having to use the loo.  

 

\---------------

 

_A declaration of repentance._

_Lily_

“They’re going to expel him you wanker!”  

In the surreal tableaux that followed, Lily Evans walked over a table in the common room (completely upending textbooks and a cup of tea into the laps of an incredulous pack of First Years) and then jumped Sirius Black.  Heedless of her visible pants, a bruised knee, and pretty much everyone else in the House.  She managed more than a few solid punches before James and the Seventh Year Prefect, Fred Vernor, managed to catch her flailing limbs and vicious legs and pull her off him.

They made the mistake of loosening their grip and she went at him again.  This time Vernor dragged her away by the neck of her blouse while Potter bodily inserted himself between Lily and Sirius.  She got one off on Potter, too.

Sirius never tried to defend himself.

*

 _I think he wants to talk with you_ , Selwyn’s hands fluttered over the Cummings Lily was currently laboring over.   _Lily, who found forgiveness hard because_ \-- Selwyn flicked her ear and Lily looked up to see _I think he wants to talk to you._

_Potter?_

_The other one._  As Selwyn usually spelled out names, Lily turned around and saw that she was referring to one Severus Snape.  Thin and hunched over in his carrell.  His jumper was worn, his pants too short.  It was so… well, _Sev_ , and Lily felt herself softening.  Before remembering why they _weren’t_ talking.  He blushed, dark hair tucked behind his ears, having been caught out.

Lily didn’t have to sign anything in return.  Her dropped head telling enough on its own.  Selwyn patted her head.

She supposed she would have to go over there.   _I’m going to go over there._

_I’ll be right here.  If you need me._

_Thanks._

“I got your card.”  He said quietly, tucking his biro between the pages of his notebook.  As he closed it, she saw the he had drawn out a line of lillies down the page.  

“How are you doing?”  

“Much better.  Considering.”  The word dropped on what she needed to consider.  He had not deserved what had happened to him.

“I’m glad,” she said, and then more firmly, “I’m glad you’re alright.”

“ _Lily_ ,” he touched the hand she had on her elbow.  There was almost a desperation to it that made it feel… unsettling?  “I’m sorry.  I really am.”

The last time they had spoken had been just before Christmas Hols.  When, after getting between the Marauders and Sev’s friends (she _was_ a Prefect), Potter said, _God, you don’t_ deserve _Evans’ friendship_.

With Carrow and his ilk in the wings, Sev had sniped, _I don’t need a dim_ bint _to protect me_.

Lily, who had been defending him for years - despite his increasingly criminal ways - felt suddenly ill.  Was that how he really saw her?  She felt like the idiot he thought she was.  She felt betrayed.

 _Fuck you_ , she had thrown over her shoulder.  

 _Lily, I’m sorry_.

 _Fuck you._  She had cried everything out.  When she’d finally left her room, needing fresh air and movement, Potter had been on the couch.  Sleeping.  He jumped up when she came down.  

The last person she wanted to see… No, that wasn’t true.  Sev - _Snape_ \- was the last person she wanted to see.  She never knew that he had dissuaded (non-violently for a change) Sev four times from walking into the Gryffindor common room.  Not by blows, but with a simple _Haven’t you done enough?_

They didn’t say anything to each other.  But she _knew_ he was there for her.  And it popped then, somewhere inside her, that _this_ was why Remus was his friend.  Because he was a complete knob, but he had...heart.  So much so that he couldn’t help but wear it on his sleeve.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” she said again, this time with a measure of finality.  “But I have revising to do.  Selwyn’s waiting for me--”

“Lily…”

But she was already walking away.

 

\-----------------------

 

_An offer of repair._

_Remus_

McGonagall walked Remus to the Gryffindor House dorms while the rest of the House was in class.  There were no morning free periods for the term.  She was visibly upset with the proceedings.  Remus didn’t think it was possible to feel worse.  But he did.  “I’ll just wait outside while you get your things together,” she gave him a look that he couldn’t decipher, having never before crossed her face, before he entered the room.

It was mid-morning, after breakfast and well into morning classes.  Remus had barely been able to swallow down the toast and tea that had been brought to him in the Hospital ward, Pomfrey standing over him with the efficient disapproval she had.  “You have to eat, Lupin.  I can’t in good conscience set you on a train in the state you’re in.”  He had done the best he could.

The dorm itself looked much the same as it always did.  A long hall flanked with room that comfortably (or uncomfortably depending on your mates) housed four to a room.  Their room -- no, _my_ room Remus amended, was the fourth one on the left.  They did not have locks on them, so Remus didn’t even have the fiction of searching for a key.  His bed was the only one with the curtains closed, which was odd as Remus was particular about his bedding.  Always tied neatly aside with the bed itself made.  He was completely alone, taking a moment to take in the casual chaos of the other beds.  The accordion pleats of James’ sheets at the foot of his bed, the tumble of bottles on Pete’s as if he had been looking for something and had upended the whole of his trunk to find it.  He didn’t look at Sirius’ bed.  Because he was angry and was finding it easier to nurture that flame through the covering of his chest, immune from breath and sunshine.  

Without opening the curtains, Remus knelt to find the handle of his trunk under his bed.  It slid out easily, the worn blue case with the faded initials: MNY.  The reason he was -- had been -- called Moony.  He supposed that James and maybe Pete might still call him that.  If they thought to send him letters to Bleven.  He had heard that Potter and Pete were going to get some sort of an award due to their services to the school.  He began to empty his drawers of their things: pants and socks and the random sort of things one collected throughout the year.  He heard a small sound from behind the curtains and stilled, hovering on the knife’s edge of _please_ and _no_.  

“Come out of there,” he said resigned.

 _Of course_ it was Sirius.  The black hair that curled around his ears, the clear grey eyes, and -- no, he looked horrible.  There was a dark bruise on his left cheek, the eye above it darkened with blood.  Despite himself, Remus brought his hand up to Sirius’ cheek.  Gently, very gently.  “What happened to you?”  His voice was almost unrecognizable, soft and rough.  Sirius nuzzled against the calloused palm, closing his eyes.  He knew the Blacks had been up.  “Did they---” Sirius shook his head, his lip split. Remus backed up as if burned.  He needed, desperately, to stop enabling Sirius.  

“Your Valkyrie,” Sirius explained with a grimace.  He had not yet opened his eyes to the wall that had fallen over Remus’.   _Please don’t open your eyes_ , Remus prayed.  Remus turned, in the likely chance, and knelt again by his case, fastening the clasps.  Sirius didn’t touch him, he daren’t, but said, “I’m so sorry.”

It was like oxygen on the flame, not extinguishing but feeding.  “You’re always sorry.”  Remus straightened and stepped away from Sirius.  “But you don’t _change_.”  

“Moony, don’t leave me.”  

“You’ve taken that decision out of my hands, Sirius.”

*

It was only occasionally that the Lupins would drive into Bleven for services.  Fam was uncomfortable in crowds and his grandmother had a feud with the Minister’s wife, Anne Hughes, after an incident when her pies had not been put out for a Church bake sale.  It had happened in 1962.

After chores and breakfast, Gram would open up his father’s copy of the the King James Bible (the Lupins had taken to Anglicanism when they’d fled France in the 17th century) and read a passage.  Remus did not consider himself to be particularly religious, but he had always enjoyed Sunday afternoons with his family.  He’d had a letter from Pete, the second one of the Summer, which had gone into excruciating detail regarding his win at the Scrabble qualifier in Leeds.  If he made the Semifinals he would be going to Germany. And the finals were in the States. He had no idea where New Orleans was but hoped he would get another Disney trip out of it.  Sandwiched between his technique and despair over Government (his family was lobbying hard for a legal career), he had casually mentioned: _Prongs and I went up to collect Pads last week_.  Three weeks considering the postmark on the letter.   _He’s finally quit the Blacks and is staying with the Potters._   _It was in all the papers._  The Lupins did not get the London papers, so he hadn’t actually seen anything about it.  

Easter Term had been… difficult.  James and Peter had been earnestly apologetic, giving Remus the space he needed to sort of get somewhere normal with them.  Solicitor Pettigrew’s intervention with the Board of Governors had made it easier and the blow-by-blow account of Mrs Potter’s righteous indignation (she had not been easy on James) on Remus’ part had sealed the deal.   _I had hoped that I had been reinstated on my own merits_ , Remus had mused.

 _Yes.  But this is how it works, Moony.  Even if you’re worthy you have to know someone._  James said it as if it was worthless to rail against it.  It made Remus slightly queasy.

It had been… strange to share a dorm with Sirius and not talk to him.  Not for want from Sirius.  Remus had taken sanctuary in the Library or in Lily’s room when he couldn’t bear the weight of his eyes.  Lily hated Sirius and had at some point formed a tendre for Gideon Prewett.  Remus had agreed that he was the more handsome of the twins (in truth he couldn’t tell them apart) and agreed to go to Hogsmeade with her so she didn’t look like she was stalking Gideon.   _I’m sure if you just asked him to Hogsmeade_ …

 _You don’t understand, Remus._  This was true, so Remus couldn’t argue with her.  Even though all of his friends, with the exclusion of Prongs and Peter, were girls.  James fully supported Remus’ friendship with Evans.  As it brought her more frequently around.

He had even befriended Alice who was often with Lily.  When he wasn’t with Lily, he was with Selwyn, lazy afternoons spilling into Summer in silence as they signed and sometimes just laid on the grass near the Lake after finals.  

 _You should come over this Summer.  Grandmother would love to have you_.  

 _Maybe.  I do have to put in a year’s worth of work on the farm in the next two months_.  She signed: _It sucks to be you, Remus Lupin_.  He could only agree.

With his new, female-centric existence (and a greatly redacted account of his bad-boy ways), Remus had begun to be seen as very serious crush material.  For the first time, he made the Boys’ List, although only at Number 10.  The Boys’ List was a mysterious publication that came out twice per school year ranking the eligibility of the boys of Hogwarts.  Everyone - and yet no one - knew who put it out.  George Fawcett was Number 1, which Remus thought was only fair.  Neither Gideon nor Fabian ranked, which made Remus feel better about not being able to tell them apart.  The most peculiar ratings were used.  Having never kissed anyone Remus wasn’t sure how anyone could rank his kissing skills.  And he’d wasted an afternoon unable to discern the qualities of his arse that had been highly praised.  James and Peter had given him no end of teasing over it.  

And Sirius, who was Number Three, was always looking for an in.  While Remus wasn’t actively avoiding him, per se, it was not the same between them.  He had apologized in every way a person could apologize but Remus wasn’t entirely sure he meant it.  Oh, he meant that he was sorry for what happened to Remus.  But he seemed to be missing any remorse regarding his action with Snape.  Remus didn’t even know if he had even apologized to the boy.  He didn’t _trust_ Sirius and was at a loss on how he could forgive, let alone be friends with, someone he didn’t trust.  Fortunately, neither James nor Peter pressured him into anything.  And he didn’t begrudge them their friendship with Sirius.  Everyone did as they must.

On the Hogwarts train the morning after the last day of classes, he popped into the Marauder’s compartment and took the seat next to James.  Peter sat across and Sirius was catty corner at the window.  James and Pete were happy to see him (and Sirius almost painfully so), throwing a cadbury bar in his lap and talking about Summer plans. The light on Sirius’ hair did wonky things to Remus’ stomach and he attributed it to stress.   _If you won’t agree to come to Majorca, you should come out to Godric’s Hollow, Moony_ , James was saying.   _A vacation like last Summer Hols._  Remus didn’t have to mention that things weren’t like they were last Summer Hols.  

Selwyn had written to give him the specifics of travel to her family’s estate in Godric’s Hollow.  She had taken it upon herself to set up permissions, time tables, and written entreaties from her Grandmother.  All without his having explicitly agreed to the venture.  He didn’t even know that Selwyn lived in Godric’s Hollow.  But Fam had been pleased.   _You should go, love.  We can do without you for a week.  Doesn’t your friend James live there, too?_  He had never explicitly named them for his Winter Term troubles and his mother had read about James’ father in the agricultural papers.  Which made him something in the Lupin household.  He, apparently, owned a stud farm in Anglesea.  

So it was that Remus’ attention had wandered as Nain read James 5:16 until he was asked a direct question.  “Are you all packed for the Selwyn’s, Rem?”  This from his father, who had sunk low into the chair he had been using for decades.  It knew him well.  

“Yes, sir, I am.”  

“You should bring some of that Summer Cheese,” he mused.  “The ‘72.”  They had hoarded the cheese from that year as it was particularly fine.   _The grass had been very good_ , Nain would say if asked.  

“And some of the apple jam,” Mam said from her sewing near the window.  

That night, Remus paid particular attention to his nighttime routine.  He brushed his teeth longer than necessary, dithering over two pair of perfectly good pajama pants, and checked his suitcase - the familiar blue one - another time although he knew everything was ready to go.  He wouldn’t admit that it had everything to do with the fact that the Potter’s lived in Godric’s Hollow.  And Pete’s throw-off line: _He’s finally quit the Blacks and is staying with the Potters._ He was _mad_ at Sirius.  Wasn’t he?   _You’re an idiot Remus_.  

Mam came in to say good night and instantly took the temperature of his mood.  They knew each other in and out, closer than the clapboards of the Lupin Farm.  “What is going on, Remus?”

He smiled at her, “Just nervous about tomorrow.”

“I can read you like the paper, love.  You’ve been _off_ since you’ve been home from school.”  She sat on the edge of his bed, Remus made room for her by sliding beneath the sheet.  “I know it’s been a hard year for you,” she ran her hand along his cheek.  

“I’m nervous about going to Godric’s Hollow,” Remus said quietly.  “I’m nervous about running into James… and, er, Sirius.”

“Oh.  Sirius.”  Remus decided not to read too much into that statement.  “I’ve not heard much about him since March.”  And with an _understanding_ she said, “Was he involved in…”

“Yes,” Remus said before she could say it.

“And you’re no longer friends?”

“Not...exactly.”  She arched a brow, a habit that was so completely Fam that Remus reached out and touched her light eyebrow.  “He said he was sorry.  And I believe him.  But I’m angry.  And I’m not sure I want to be anymore?”  His voice rose at the end, almost as if he were asking for permission.

“I see.”  There was no judgement in her voice.  “I can’t make any decision for you, love.  But I can tell you from experience that holding onto hate can be worse than the deed that inspired it.”

He knew they had shifted to the Before.  They did not often talk about Fam’s life before Lupin Farm, before Remus.  He only knew that something had made her leave everything and become the quiet, anxious person she was with everyone except her family.  “But as we know from James - not to be confused with _your_ James, who I have heard is certainly no angel - we should confess our faults to each other and pray for each other.  And then there will be healing.”

Remus was thoughtful.

“I think if you talk to each other, you may find that you can come to an understanding.  Or you can’t.  But maybe you’ll be able to come to a decision that you can live with, no?”

*****

By the third day of his visit, Remus was so sunburnt that he wasn’t entirely certain he would ever really recover.  He was also full of lemonade and chocolate, which was possibly the worst combination in the world.  Selwyn had unceremoniously put her Grandmother’s gardening hat on Remus with: _You’re a git.  Don’t they have sun in Wales?_

 _No.  We live in continuous dark._   _It’s really hard to see the sheep_.

She gave him the finger, but her Grandmother saw it and signed: _I don’t recall that being part of the approved vocabulary of BSL, Callisto_.  

Remus was certain she would have given her Grandmother the finger too.  If she hadn’t continued to watch them.  Her matchmaking skills were dashed the first day when Selwyn signed that: _We’re not dating.  I do his makeup._

 _That doesn’t mean anything, Callisto.  It’s the ‘70s._  But she had smiled.  

 _Besides, he’s a scrawny git_.

 _I am NOT!_  Remus had signed frantically, inadvertently signing that he _was_ , in fact, a scrawny git.  Lady Selwyn, who presented rather grandly, had now taken to calling him “Git.”  He had been called worse.

 _So we’re going to the Potters tonight._  Selwyn dropped on him after they’d showered and had located something for his sunburn.

 _Thanks for letting me know_ , Remus said not sure if his sarcasm came through until she smiled at him.  

 _Well, they were very interested in who this Git person was and_ …  She started laughing in earnest.   _Grandmother actually has friends, Remus.  They invited us_.  

_You’re an insufferable wanker, Selwyn._

 

\---------------

 

_A request for forgiveness._

_Sirius_

To say that he was disappointed that only James and Peter were in the car that rolled up in front of the coffee shop he’d been sitting at for most of the night would be understating it.  Sirius was devastated that Remus was not with them.  

But his emotions were in flux, fed by ten cups of coffee and the bag of crisps he’d managed to get down.

It was a rundown shop.  The kind of place Sirius had never been in and he had no idea where he was.  It was enough that he’d been able to use the phone and get coffee from the counter girl on his looks.  Thankful that they’d never touched his face.  He had been lucky that James was in the country.  

“Jesus, Pads,” Prongs said as they came in.  The girl behind the counter, Eilish he thought, straightened immediately.  She was pretty enough, he supposed, in her polyester uniform and orange-red lipstick.  She would almost certainly be game for a shag.  But he _couldn’t._  Her eyes were a muddy sort of green that dried up all his casual lines.  He would have to self-medicate some other way.  He hoped the Potters had a full bar.  “What happened?”

Everything Sirius had in the world was on his person.  Which basically came down to just his leather jacket, which he’d only managed because she’d thrown it at him.  And a three inch gash on his left thigh that probably needed stitches.  He’d not been quite fast enough to get away from the strap.  They’d been getting progressively stouter as he and Reg aged.  This one had been her favorite: 5’ and stippled.  

Instead of explaining any of it - he couldn’t, he didn’t know how to begin - he simply said, “I can’t stay there anymore.”

Prongs, being Prongs, just offered an “Alright.”  Completely convinced that the situation would just right itself as it always seemed to do.

“Well, you can’t stay here,” Peter said pragmatically.  “They’re closing in ten and they’re out of lemon meringue.  We can all come back to mine and call the Potters from there.”

“Are they looking for you?”  Prongs asked, as if Sirius had normal parents.  As if they would let cameras into the House and plead for the safe return of their wayward first born.

“No.”

Peter had actually driven them over.  He had his provisional but needed an over 21 to legally drive.  He had taken his Mum’s Mercedes-Benz without actually asking.  The plate, which was very distinctive, read: LDYBARSTR.  

Sirius was the consummate liar.  A defensive tic that served him well.  The Potters had no problem with his stay being of an indefinite length.  Neither had they been completely caught off guard by their son and his schoolmates showing up at 3am behind the wheel of the Benz.  

Mrs Pettigrew had called looking for her son some time ago.

Uncle Alphard, of Football Club fame, had put up his funds for Hogwarts initially and would have taken him in a heartbeat.  If he had been in the country.  “I’m in Tehran, Euphemia, otherwise I would take the boy.  If you and Flea could take him for the Summer, I’ll take care of everything.”

*

Through his own mercenary machinations, Sirius maneuvered Remus into the Potter’s garden together.  Alone.  Although James had stood at the patio doors, rather alarmed, until it became apparent that he was not a threat to Moony.

 _As if he ever would be_.  His stomach roiled with a sick wave as he realized he _had_.  That he absolutely _could_ do that.  That he was no better than the rest of the Blacks.  

He didn’t know what to do with his hands.  And the moon was full and bright over Remus’ face, turning his hair silver and his arms freckled and probably warm.  Moony was _his_ \- though perhaps shared amongst the Marauders - and it was killing him to have this distance between them.  He had shovelled it and Moony was on the other side.  Visible but untouchable.

He found he was crying.  Quiet as he did.  But a tear rolled down his cheek, dropping from his chin, onto the white of his t-shirt.  James’ t-shirt.  Until he could get his own.  “Moony, I know I don’t deserve it…”  

Remus looked up at him.  His eyes were fantastically green, ancient and wary.  “No.  You don’t.”

“But…”  

“But,” Remus said, his voice more confident now.  His next words were so long in coming that Sirius waited, impatient to know what Remus was going to say.  Remus stepped closer.  “Hello.  My name is Remus Lupin.”  He had the most tentative smile Sirius had ever seen on him.  Unsure, but trying to convince himself.  The look he had when he was ready for a test, but didn’t think he was ready.  And trying to talk himself up.

“I’m Sirius.  Sirius Black,” Sirius did not relinquish Remus’ hand when they stopped shaking.  Instead he said, “I think we’re going to be good friends.”

“If you hurt me again, Pads… I can’t...”

“I know,” Sirius said, his autocratic features solemn and everything serious.  “I promise I will never hurt you again, Remus.”  Remus arched a brow. “I’ll try my best.” Sirius amended, staring at Remus’ lips for a moment, and then he whispered _thank you_ against Remus as he hugged him.

His nose buried against the tensile line of Remus’ neck, everything in him aligned.  And he realized that this was _something_.  It was different from how he loved James and Peter.  Different from his affection for Mrs and Mr Potter.  And sometimes McGonagall.  It was intense and scary and very delicate.  Right now.

He wanted to kiss Remus.  Work open the seam of his lips and wash his teeth with his tongue.  But he couldn’t.  Of course.  Hurt was close to the surface, barely scabbed over.  And Remus had never shown any inclination.  

He couldn’t kiss.  So he reverted to licking a stripe up the soft fuzz of Remus’ cheek.

“Did you just lick me?”  But they both knew the answer to that question as they walked back inside.

 

\------------------------------

 

_Lily_

She was trying to figure out whether the screwdriver she had in her hand was a _phillips_ or a _not phillips_ , when she heard the thud.  It had come from inside the house, the door of the shed open so she heard it clearly.

“Daddy?”  She stepped out into the garden, in her play jeans and blouse as they hadn’t intended to go out.  Mum was at work, Tuney with her beau, and Lily had been helping Mark with the cabinet doors.  He had refinished them as a present for Edina (that she was in full knowledge of as she’d suggested it).  He had sent Lily out for a _phillips_ screwdriver.  

As soon as her tennis shoes hit the linoleum, she saw him.  He was on the kitchen floor, seemingly asleep, a broken glass of water spilling alongside.  The radio still tuned to his favorite medium-wave station.  “Daddy!”  She was on her knees in an instant, heedless of the water or the glass grinding through her jeans, of the screwdriver in her hand.  “Daddy, please wake up.”  She pulled a seat cushion off the nearest chair and put it under his head.  So he would be comfortable when he woke up.

“I’ll be right back, Daddy.  I’ll be right back.”  She had to run across the street to the Shibleys who were the only family with a telephone on the block and likely to be home.  Mrs Shibley called 999.

She came back to Mark, dropping down beside him and taking up his hand.  He was warm and heavy.  Fingers and wrist, forearm and biceps moving like taffy.  But he was warm.  “Just hold on, Daddy.  Everything is going to be alright.  Everything is going to be alright.”

_Stand by your man,_

_Give him two arms to cling to,_

_And something warm to come to..._

She would never be able to listen to Tammy Wynette again.  Although it was played all Summer.


	6. Chapter 6

**Sixth Year**

_Lily_

_House Day, 1976_

In the spirit of sadism - masquerading as intestinal fortitude - Hogwarts hosted the traditional House Day at the start of term.  This time with the added emphasis of an official decree that students at Public Schools were not doing enough to further their physical fitness.  Each student was given the same kit: a grey t-shirt with the Hogwarts logo, a pair of cotton shorts (in the case of Gryffindors, red), a pair of tube socks (somehow too large for everyone in the school), and a team.  

Lily and James were on the same team.  Although diluted by two Second Year girls, Linda and Anahit, Eoghan Murphy (one of the newly minted Fifth Year Prefects), Judy the Fourth Year, who was clearly in love with James, and Hyacinth “it’s a family name” Lindsay a Seventh Year Maths prodigy.  The only one with any athletic prowess was James.  Although Hyacinth assured them that he was ace at marbles.  And Anahit was some sort of a jump rope champion.  

While they milled on the great lawn, Lily threw herself at Remus, who immediately - in obvious self defense - caught her up in a hug.  “I have to work with Potter.”

“Poor you.”  

“Your sympathy is overflowing.”

“I _like_ James.  And considering your roster,” he looked over her shoulder at the pasty offerings of Lily’s team, “I think you’ll need him.”  Remus had been sorted with Glenmare, two footballers, and a member of the Hogwarts rowing team.  Hecate Madsen, the rower, had shoulders for days.   _For days_.

“It’s glaringly obvious in our old age that McGonagall fancies you.”

“Oh.  We’ll have to be more circumspect about our illicit love then.  Or,” Remus squeezed her shoulders before relinquishing her, “All the events will be intellectual in nature and…” He looked over his group, “We’ll still probably win.”

The Gryffindor teams were slated to compete against each other and, by process of elimination, would send one team up against the dreaded Capture the Flag.

Potter actually gave a very rousing pep talk before they began, managing to suss out everyone’s skills and comfort levels.  She thought he was probably a good rugby Captain.  The first order of business was a Hula-Hoop competition.  A last person standing sort of thing.  While they weren’t _immediately_ eliminated, they came in rather low in the standings.  But just enough to not be cut.  James’ _I haven’t any hips!  How do you keep it up without hips?!_ felled many a foe.  It was hard to laugh and shimmy at the same time.

The relay this year - foregoing the traditional egg - featured an outfit that had to be worn during the lap, discarded, and then put on by the next teammate.  An enormous Edwardian plumed hat, a long grey skirt, and a men’s suit coat.  At some point, Remus’ hat blew off, hitting a Second Year in the face, and was caught by a milling Sixth Year Slytherin, Kirin Reddy.  With boos of _sedition_ from his fellow housemates, he returned the hat.  By putting it on his head.  A sweet, embarrassed smile on Remus’ face.

As this had added several minutes to his team, there had been much talk of Slytherin sabotage.  

But Reddy kept looking at Remus.

This immediately piqued Lily’s interest.  With her crush now friendship - Remus a brother - she had been intent on matchmaking.  She had been rebuffed at every instance and now, being an intuitive and interested observer of her fellow students, she thought _what if Remus likes_ boys?  Lily knew academically that boys _could_ like boys.  Hadn’t John Hurt just starred in a biopic of Quentin Crisp?  On ITV, no less.  But until this very moment, pulling up a falling tube sock and waiting for her blazer hand off, she had never even thought about it.  It wasn’t the sort of thing people just marched about.  Or much talked about, really.

For the three-legged race, Lily found herself lashed to Potter.

She had never had any reason to put her arm around Potter - or have his around hers - and it was very awkward.

With a very delicate, hesitant grasp, he accidentally grazed the underside of her breast when she moved and then stammered out - releasing her instantly - “Oh my god, I am so sorry.”

“That was the only freebie you’ll ever get, Potter.”  She expected some juvenile comment in response, but instead he nodded.  With the sound of the horn, they set off, a very clumsy hop-run.  Lily trying to drag James along while he attempted to do the same to her.

“I think only one of us should steer, Evans,” James grunted while the rope between them gave Lily a carpet burn.  “I know you think I’m an arse, but--”

“Oh, alright.”  She leaned against Potter, arm around his waist, letting him puppet her left leg.  With her head quite firmly in his armpit, he was sweaty and gross, but if she forgot who had his arm around her it was actually kind of nice.  They didn’t fall over.  But neither did they win.

Falling on their arses at the finish line, James high-fived her.  “Go team!”  

“Potter.  I don’t think you’re an arse.   _Per se_.”

James looked like he had been hit over the head while she turned to work on the rope with her fingers.  “You should call me James then.”  She looked up at him, skeptically, and he hastily added, “I always feel like I’m in trouble when you call me Potter.”

“Probably because you often are.”

“Evans.”

Having finally worked the rope free, she separated them.  “Oh, alright, James.  But you’ll probably never hear me say it since you’re _always_ in trouble.”

“We’ll see.  Lily?”

She stared at him for longer than was absolutely necessary.  “I guess.  But I’m still not going to go out with you.”

“I’m very date-able.”  He argued, on a laugh, as she started to walk away.  “I can have Moony vouch for me.”

“I’ve been warned about you, James Potter.”  But she was laughing as she walked away.  James’ _That quisling!_

Despite their best attempts, it was Peter’s team who rallied to represent Gryffindor at Catch the Flag.  She’d had no idea that Pettigrew could run that fast.  

*

“He’s out there again, Lil,” Glen said, trudging through the Gryffindor common room.  Or more like limping as Potter (who Lily had started referring to as James) had run his troops through their paces.

Tucked into the end of the couch, bare feet up on the table, Lily looked up.  No need to ask who.  Sev (who Lily had started to refer to as Severus) had been trying to start a conversation with her since they’d returned to Hogwarts.  She strongly suspected that Carrow and his ilk, who had graduated, had left him to his own devices.  Or he’d seen the obit in the Cokeworth News.  She sighed.

“Do you want me to get rid of him?”

“Oh, no.  I have a feeling that if I don’t find out what he wants he’ll just stay out there.  And then,” she closed the book in her hand.  “James’ll take care of it.”

“I beat him to the showers.  So you have a good ten minutes or so if it’s any consolation.”

“Lovely.”

When she finally came out, still barefoot as she’d not intended to spend long, Severus was on the cold flagstone, back to the wall, legs tucked up.  He gave her a sideways grin that made her slightly queasy.  She had always liked Severus.  But this was the same person who had robbed convenience stores and wanted to see the purification of “English stock.”  Whatever that was.  

And he thought she was a _dim bint_.

“You came.”

“Well, since Glen was the fourth person to tell me you were out here, I thought I would see why.”  Her arms were crossed at her chest.  

“Why are you here?”

He was all gangly arms and legs as he stood up.  “I missed you.”

Lily said nothing.  

“I mean…” he had his right hand at the back of his neck.  “I’m really sorry.  About everything.”

“And I’m sorry, too,” Lily said, his face lighting to something hopeful.  “That we just can’t be friends again, Severus.  It doesn’t… _work_ … like that.”

“Why?”  His asked, honestly baffled.  “I’ll do anything.   _Anything_ to show you I’ve changed.”

“I don’t… I _can’t_ … trust you.”

His face changed in an instant.  Going from a slightly older version of what she was used to to the boy beneath.  Angry and vindictive.  “Is it because of _Potter_?  You remember that he and his ilk tried to kill me.”

“I remember.”  And Lily did.  “But this has _nothing_ to do with James.”

“James is it?”  He laughed, hollowly.  “God, you never used to be such a cipher, Lily.  Hedging your bets?”

She backhanded him and while she was fairly certain she had broken something in her hand, it felt _good_ .  She was so angry.  “Get the fuck out of here, Snape.  I don’t want to _ever_ see you again.”  She watched the silent shame on his face, the desire to apologize melting under her furious gaze.  When he was gone, she sort of came apart in the hallway.  

She didn’t like to cry in front of other people.

“Hey, are you alright?”  And _of course_ it was Potter.

“How long were you standing there?”  She hadn’t heard anyone coming up the stairs and it was almost impossible to come up quietly.  

“Um…” James blushed, looking genuinely repentant.  “Probably longer than I should have.  I’m going to apologize from over here, though.  So I don’t get slapped.  I’ve been on the receiving end of one of those.”

Lily looked at him.  “You are such a knob.”  But, she found herself smiling at him.  “Besides, I think I broke my hand.”  They stood in the hall a bit, sort of smiling at each other.  It was probably the weirdest moment she’d ever spent with Potter.   _James_.  “I’m honestly impressed that you didn’t do anything stupid.”

“I’m not the same person I was for, er, most of my time here, Evans.  I am capable of learning.  Case in point: standing far enough to be out of firing range.”

“Alright, you can call me Lily, James.”  She was fairly certain he was going to have a coronary right there on the spot.  She had no idea why he liked her so much.  It made standing in the hallway with him sort of awkward.  But not as awkward as she’d have thought.

“Are you going to Ravenclaw’s tonight?”

“Yeah, probably.”

“So am I.”

“Good for you?”  She opened and closed her hand.  “I’m going in.  My feet are freezing.”

“Ok.  So am I.”

“Do you need an escort?”  

He gave her an enormous grin - a grin she’d seen more times than she could recount, mostly in conjunction with some awful scheme - that showed off a crooked eye-tooth.  “I certainly won’t turn it down.”

She opened the door and then held out her arms.  “This is the best you’re going to get.”

“I’ll take it.”

*

“Hey, Gingersnap.”  Lily, in the middle of attempting the punch, looked up into Gideon Prewett’s brown eyes.  And dropped the cup in her hand.  So much for the cool facade she was hoping she’d projected.  In her smart red plaid skirt and navy turtleneck and borrowed t-strap heels.  

“Where’s your better half?”  She found herself saying, pleased that she was able to cover her spastic moment with a halfway decent riposte.  

“Doing better things, no doubt.”

“There’s something better than talking to me?”  She arched a brow, something she was only half good at, hoping that her face said _There is no such thing_ instead of _Good Lord, I like you_.

Gideon smiled.  A slow, sexy smile that definitely caused a flurry of butterflies to swarm her stomach.  How on earth they got in there was beyond her.  “No.  His loss.  I don’t think there’s anything better.”

Lily had no idea what to say to that.  

“Do you want to dance with me?”  He nodded towards the middle of the Ravenclaw Common Room that had been cleared of furniture.  There were a grand total of four people out there.  Not entirely sure what to do to Bohemian Rhapsody.  Although Black had gone out there, clearly intending to do _something_.  Lily wasn’t sure she wanted to know what.

“Um…”

Gideon held out his hand and she took it.  He swung her up against him and said, “Lily.   _I just killed a man_.”

“I’m not sure I want to take up with a fugitive from justice,” she said as he did some rough circling maneuver that was probably supposed to be dancing.  

“And if I wasn’t?”  She had no idea where this was going.  Although hopeful. “A fugitive from justice?”

“Well, that’s another thing entirely.”  Over his shoulder, she saw James coming over, all purposefully ruffled hair and easy grace.  They made the briefest of eye-contact before he frowned and then turned back.  


\------------------

 

_Remus_

Remus woke on the morning of All Saints with a smile.  He was an early to bed, early to rise sort of person by habit, not by inclination.  So not by inclination.  So he always set his alarm an hour before he needed to actually get up, because it took him two hours to get out of bed.  Initially this had caused no small amount of consternation from his dorm mates, but they no longer even heard it.  The four-poster’s privacy curtains were drawn in deference to the cold room.  When he gained some semblance of consciousness (about an hour after he opened his eyes), his mind tumbled down the well-trod path of George Fawcett and _it_ .  It, which had assumed a significance through countless dream revisions, was the way his body came to life around Fawcett.  He was aware of his heart, his breath, and his _skin_ for goodness’ sake.

Slughorn had suggested Fawcett, a Seventh Year, as a tutor for Remus.  “Why did you continue Chemistry, Remus?  You’ve already scraped an O-level.  It’s obvious you don’t like it.  And to be honest with you, it would take a miracle for you to pass Sixth Year, Evans aside.”  

“I want to be a doctor, sir.”  

“Remus, I like you.  You’re hard-working, dependable, and a credit to the school.  And so long as a chemist was responsible for drugs administration when I’m at hospital, I might even be alright if I found you were my attending.”  Slughorn twisted his filofax a bit before pulling out a card.  “My TA this term is George Fawcett.  Slytherin - my former House, you know and has more brains than your average footballer here.  I’ve talked to him and he’s happy to meet with you.”  He handed the card to Remus.  “Remus, I really think you should do it.”

Remus, who _always_ looked a gift horse in the mouth (look what happened to the Trojans!), could not see anything amiss with the offer and decided to contact Fawcett.  They knew each other through History Club and got on quite well considering their different backgrounds.  Remus was a scholarship boy.  He had two Sixth Year uniforms (which he purchased himself after summers working) and had become a proficient tailor to keep them in passable condition.  

The Maths wing had been named for Fawcett’s grandfather.  

He didn’t want James or Peter or _g_ _od forbid_ , Sirius to know he was being tutored.  “They’re savages.  I would never live it down.”  So Evans had agreed to cover for him.

“Just tell them you’re studying with me.  Or rounding or something.”  Since she’d started seeing Gideon, the Marauders had given her a lot of breathing space.  James because it was now improper to actively crush on Lily - Gideon, although in another House, was someone he greatly respected.  Sirius, because she was betraying Gryffindor by dating a Hufflepuff - _although not as bad as a Slytherin, of course_.  And while Peter was friendly with Evans, he had his own concerns.  Maths and Evelyn Hicks, not always in that order.

It was during their second session that Fawcett put his hand on Remus’ knee.  Remus was not particularly alarmed, over which he thought he would pencil in some time to consider.  He did not remove Fawcett’s hand.  Fawcett had square, rough hands with a poorly reset middle left finger.  They were warm and still, waiting for Remus to say - or do - anything.

“Lupin, I--”

“Fawcett, I--”  They laughed as they spoke at the same time, Fawcett’s voice sort of nervous and Remus was… breathy.  “I think you should go first,” and Remus motioned towards Fawcett’s hand which was still on his knee.

“Are you okay with this?”  

“I think so.  Yes.”  Remus looked at Fawcett, an actual punch of desire hitting him for the first time in his life.  He had quite a few female friends and while he thought some had lovely eyes or nice teeth, and while he thought he might like kissing one he just hadn’t. “Yes, yes I am.”

“You are so beautiful,” Fawcett said before kissing him.  The touch of Fawcett’s mouth set off a spray of fire through his spine that terminated in his groin.  He’d never been seriously kissed by anyone before and it kindled quickly as Fawcett’s tongue danced at the stitching of Remus’ mouth and he unravelled him.  They only came apart when someone hit the wall in the next room and they started.  Fawcett’s eyes had gone very dark and his mouth was damp with Remus’ spit.  Just thinking that added to his almost painful arousal.  They sat, panting and looking at each other for a moment before Fawcett placed the lightest of kisses on the corner of his mouth.  “So, um, that happened…”  When Remus didn’t immediately say something, he added, “Lupin, say something.”

Remus smiled then, somewhat shell shocked.  It was sexy smile that he would have been completely embarrassed to have had another person see.  “I think if you’re going to kiss me you should call me Remus.”

Fawcett had relaxed then.  “Remus, then.  Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do that?”

“You thought about it before now?”  Remus was surprised.  For the life of him, he couldn’t imagine anyone having thought about kissing him.  Being rated an excellent snogger and actually, well, snogging not existing on the same page in his book.

“For ages,” and Fawcett gave him an intense look that did nothing to quell the heat in his groin.  “Let me just say that tutoring you was _never_ a hardship.  You are… so… beautiful.”  Remus gave him a skeptical look, although he blushed.  He looked a lot like his mother who _had_ spent her teens on the beauty pageant circuit.  He had her eyes: green and fringed by long lashes.  And he had her face, high cheekbones and a full mouth, though broadened by being male.  But he was plagued by his father’s hair - dark blond curls that got in his eyes between cuts - and height.  He was already 6’1 and the ache in his bones said he was going to keep growing.  “But I’m embarrassing you.”

“A little.”  Remus admitted.  “So, um, is this going to happen again?”

“Do you want it to?”  Fawcett sounded hopeful.

“Yeah,” Remus gave Fawcett that smile he still didn’t know about before adding, “I mean, you’re supposed to be tutoring me in chemistry.”

While Prongs found out about Remus being tutored, he promised not to tell Sirius.  “Although I don’t know why you have to tutor with Fawcett.”  James’ _great_ -grandfather’s name was on the Hogwarts auditorium.  And there was the bad blood between some of Gryffindor House and some of Slytherin House.  “I could tutor you in chem,” James had that stupid Potter grin on his face that was probably more lecherous than he thought it was. “I always get a _reaction_.”  But even James wouldn’t gainsay Slughorn.  

It was a good thing that all of the Marauders often had evening activities (mostly snogging) as Remus would come home mussed and ridiculously turned on.  He spent his shower time alone and sometimes with Sirius (two stalls down as per tradition, although weirdly sometimes closer this year) bringing himself to white hot orgasms as quietly as possible.  Sometimes twice in quick succession.

While Fawcett had given every sign that he was completely willing to carry things further, Remus was definitely a slower operator.  In theory he was alright with what happened next.  But when he thought about how it was _his_ body that would be involved, it seemed _too_ close.  He just wasn’t quite ready.  He had tutored under Selwyn to learn how to cover the bruises on his neck and collar.   _You’re hopeless, Git.  I think you’ll need to have Fawcett suck lower._  If the Marauders had seen the hickies he would _never_ hear the end of that.  They had teased Peter so badly after his first “love bite” that he’d slept on the common room couch for two nights.  Although Remus suspected that his girlfriend had joined him.

As it was, James had completely reneged on not telling Sirius about his tutoring and the three of them had started asking him if he needed tutors for all his subjects.

It wasn’t until Halloween, a Sunday, that things finally went further.  Fawcett had smuggled in a fifth of whiskey in his rucksack that Remus would _never_ have been able to afford.  They drank it from a styrofoam cup Fawcett had brought for that purpose.  “I can’t get completely wasted,” Remus told him, “I promised my mates I would be back for All Hollows’ Eve.”  

Under the buzz of the whiskey, actual chemistry tutelage went to the wayside when Fawcett started kissing his neck.  There was a place, just inside his shoulder bone that was particularly sensitive and often enough the site of most of Remus’ hickies.  They’d both made a covenant (after those early bruises) that they couldn’t mark anything visible above the uniform shirt.  In minutes, Remus was hot: face flushed, panting.  And then Fawcett let his hand, a square, rough hands with a poorly reset middle finger, graze between his legs.  Remus arched against him.  “Let me touch you, Rem,” Fawcett said into Remus’ shoulder and he said yes a hundred times while Fawcett laughed and unzipped his trousers.  

Only a herculean force of will stopped Remus from coming as soon as Fawcett touched him.  And the fear of embarrassing himself.  

After a few strokes, Fawcett dropped out of the chair and down to his knees, his chin on Remus’ thigh.  “Rem.  Can I put you in my mouth?”

Remus face flamed.  “You want to…”  Remus looked down at his unzipped trousers and the curve of his cock pulled through his Y-fronts.  

“Yes, Yes I do.”

Fawcett took Remus into his mouth on Remus’ exhalation of _What are you doing?_  Fawcett only suckled at the head a few times before he was coming _in his mouth_.  His “ _Ohmigod_ , I’m going to... “ a breath behind his body.

Afterward, Fawcett had kissed him almost languorously, Remus tasting himself on his tongue.  “Can I do you?”  He asked.

“You want to?”

“I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”  Fawcett’s hand was in his hair, the look he gave Remus making his toes curl.  Fawcett was salty and smelled like _boy_.  He was making so much noise that Remus thought he might be doing alright.  In fact, he was making so much noise that they almost didn’t hear the tap on the door.  Fawcett managed to pull Remus off the floor and into the chair next to them.  He didn’t have time to close his fly.

The tableaux that greeted Natalie Travers was far more damning than either of the boys knew.  Remus’ face did not hide his debauchment, nor did the table hide Fawcett’s open fly.  Leaving the library, thinking it had been a close call, they went their separate ways with a promise to meet again.  Soon.

That night, the Gryffindors celebrated an “American Halloween,” thanks to the Stern twins whose father was the US Ambassador to the UK.  At around midnight, Sirius - who was laying with his head in Remus’ lap and noted four times that he smelled _delicious_ \- told Remus that he loved him.  He was completely pissed and had had to free his hair from Remus’ zipper three times (all of which were Remus’ fault of course), never releasing his death grip on the beer bottle someone had given him.  Remus took it with the grain of salt it deserved.  “I love you, too, Pads.  But you are pissed, mate.”  

Evans, who was sitting next to him, rolled her eyes at Sirius.  She was also drunk, though, and Gideon Prewett (who was emphatically not a Gryffindor) was still in the Gryffindor common room although he was way past curfew.  “I have to take him upstairs.  He’s a danger to himself.”  Remus left Lily behind, promising to give her a _very edited_ synopsis of his dealing with Fawcett.  She had demanded he spill after months of covering for him.   _Did you have sex yet?_ She kept asking him and he thought it was because she wanted to talk about Gideon.

Remus half carried, half dragged Sirius up to the dorm and dropped him on his bed.  He was just going to leave him there on his stomach and clothed, but started to worry that Sirius might asphyxiate.  So he turned him over and made quick work of the button-up and his shoes.  Sirius opened his eyes as Remus considered whether he should remove Sirius’ belt or not.  “Lemme help,” he slurred, before pulling his belt open with a practiced tug.

“You’re very talented, Pads.”  Remus didn’t even try to hide the humor in his voice.

“Yes,” Sirius agreed, unzipping his trousers and pulling them down, pulling his pants with them.  Remus had seen Sirius’ body displayed in its entirety on every occasion Sirius could.  It embarrassed him every time.  He was now middling height, not as tall as James or Remus, but taller than Peter.  His skin was white as milk where it kept hidden away, the sharp jut of his hips revealing the prick Remus _definitely_ did not want to notice and wiry black pubic hair.  He let himself look - just a little bit and under the cover of his lashes - as he realized seeing Fawcett’s had made him think about _other_ pricks.  It was like he had permission now.   _I am_ that way, _thus I can look at other pricks_.

“Oh my god, Sirius, don’t take off your pants!”  Sirius stopped tugging, but his half-erect penis continued to jut across his muscled stomach while he kept looking at Remus.  

With his face averted and trying to touch nothing, Remus pulled the edge of Sirius’ overhanging duvet over his body.  “Let me get you some water.”  As Remus was, himself, headed for the showers next, he pulled off his button-down and his belt and left them on his own bed.  After filling a glass he kept on his nightstand just for that purpose he held it overhead until Sirius successfully won the war with his duvet and knee throttling trousers.

“Thanks,” Sirius treated him to an enormous smile before downing the glass.  Remus grabbed his towel and shower kit.  “Where are you going?”

“Shower.”  He was under the hot jets when he heard the door open.  

“Moony?”  Remus exhaled in his stall.  His clothes were not within reach.  His towel on the rack.  It could only cover his manhood or the neck bruises.  Not both.  Sober Sirius would remain two stalls down (or so).  Drunk Sirius would end up on the lip of Remus’ shower with his back turned and talk to him.  This had been a new thing since the beginning of the year.  After five years of public school, Remus had shrugged off some of his discomfort with public nudity (provided the public was only the eight boys sharing the shower room).  He usually didn’t mind, but for the fact that his clothes were not within reach.  And his towel could either cover exhibit A or exhibit B.  And if he had it around his neck, there were _definitely_ going to be questions.

“Oh God, Sirius.  Are you going to throw up?”

“Probably...not…”

“You sound less than sure.”  The thought of vomit on his feet made Remus’ toes curl in disgust.

“Remus--”  And Sirius was in the shower.  For some reason in his pulled up trousers and socks.

“Oh my god… Pads… Get out!”  Remus pushed him while Sirius pushed his wet hair off his face.  Laughing, of course.  He slid a little and put his hands on Remus’ hips to stop from falling over.

“Moony---”  But whatever Sirius was going to say died when he saw Remus’ collar.  “Who did that?”  The laughter in Sirius’ voice dying on impact.  

Remus clapped his hand over the larger of the marks.  “What?”  The shower head continued to rain down on them.

Remus didn’t put up much of a fight when Sirius pushed his hand off the marks Fawcett had left behind and laid his hand on his shoulder, the thumb tracing the outline.  

“If you’re going to give me shit about it, Pads, just get it over with.”

“Remus--” Pads started huskily and then turned it into a strained smile.  “Congratulations.  You’re an adult now.”  And then he walked out of the showers.

He supposed he should go after him.  But Remus had no idea what to do with a drunk Sirius.

 

\---------------

 

_James_

Sirius took Moony’s debauchment about as well as expected.

When he trudged back down into the common room - completely soaked - James stepped away from his current occupation of covertly trying to figure out what Gideon Prewett had that he didn’t have.  Outside of freckles.  And Lily Evans.

Obviously, Sirius was currently the higher priority.

“Pads, what’s wrong?”  James was trying not to slur his words, but found that _what’s_ and _wrong_ came out as the same word.  He did realize that Sirius was having an existential crisis.  Aided by the fact that he’d had the same crisis about two months ago.  When Gideon Prewett and Lily Evans were on the Gryffindor couch together.  In the morning.  Laying on top of each other.  He was only saved by the fact that they were both fully clothed.

He would probably never recover.

“I’m.. not sure...exactly.”  Sirius’ eyes were a blown grey, in no way aided by the amount of alcohol they had both consumed.

“I don’t know if you realize, but you’re soaking wet.”

“Thanks, Prongs.”  James was not sober enough to know that he was not really thanking him.  Sirius peeled his trousers away from his stomach.  It made a sucking sound.  “This was so much better in my head.”

 _Oh shite_.

James put one hand on Sirius’ shoulder, put a beer down in his other hand, and then took his other shoulder.  He leaned in very close.  “I take it he doesn’t reciprocate.”

Sirius gave him a strange look.  “What?”

“What?”

“Prongs.  What do you think I’m talking about?”

James pulled Sirius - who was, being completely soaked, drawing a lot of attention - into the corner.  “On second thought,” James said, “I think we both need some tea.”  

“You better be carefulllll…” Evans said, wagging her finger at them from the couch.  “I’ll have to take points for midnight hijinks.”

“Oh shove off.”  Evans gave him the vee in response.  It actually verged on affectionate.  If she didn’t have Gideon Prewett’s head on her lap.  Or he didn’t have his hand just above her knee.  James pushed Sirius through the door a bit more forcefully than he’d intended.  But Sirius didn’t complain.

“That woman is a harridan.”

“Pads.  Don’t talk about the mother of my children in that way.”

“Prongs, it’s hopeless.”  The school kitchens - which were always locked after hours - were two floors down.  The Marauders knew the route well and James had learned his way around a nail file.  

“Are we talking about Evans and I or you and Moony?”

“I like you better when you’re oblivious.”

“I like _myself_ better that way, Pads.  But all good things must pass.”  The kitchen door popped open - after dropping the nail file several times - and they quickly entered and locked the door behind them.  While Sirius lifted himself soggily onto the counter, James started the kettle and found a large cook’s coat that he threw to Sirius.  “Put that on before you freeze to death.”  When James appeared again, this time with two cups of whatever the school called tea, Sirius was in nothing but the chef’s coat.  James was grateful that it at least went down to his knees.

He was still sitting on the counter, though.  “Budge over.”  Sirius obliged and James jumped up next to him, having had the foresight to hand Sirius his cuppa first.

“Are we going to have a heart to heart, Prongs?”

“Good lord, no.”  James was disgusted by the thought.  “I’m just going to sit here with this cup of…” James looked down into the cup, “Whatever the bloody hell this is and offer you companionable silence.  Or light chatter as I don’t think I’ve kept my mouth shut since being plucked from my mother’s teat.”

Pads shivered beside him.  “Do you really think this is the time to talk about your mother’s breasts?  I prefer to think you were immaculately concepted.”

“Our.”  

“Our?”

“Our mother, Pads.”  James said it as fact.  No symphonic soundtrack or pyrotechnics.  Just correcting a word.  “And I assure you, from experience, that a boy,” he waved down the length of his body, “Does not become an Adonis like this without a solid foundation.”

“This is beyond the pale.”  But Sirius was pleased.  James could read that much.  He liked belonging, he always had.  And Mrs Potter, who had always wanted more children, had looked at Sirius like the second coming of Christ.  Sharing an orbit would have been unthinkable with anyone else.  But James didn’t mind sharing it with Sirius.

“Why do you think you’re so short?”  Pointing out Pads’ height was always the sign that James was going to settle something physically.  Pads was a little sensitive about his height.

“Prongs…”

“If there's something wrong with the bitch, then there's something wrong with the pup.”  

Sirius only won the tussle - which ended on the clean smelling linoleum - when the cook’s coat opened and he flashed James.  Who had then tripped over a chair (his eyes completely closed) in an attempt to _not see_ what he had seen.  “I am a fine figure of a man.”

“You keep telling yourself that, Pads.”  The tea was so far away now - on the counter - and James didn’t want to get off the floor.  

“James,” Pads was suddenly rather serious.  “Did you know that Moony is seeing someone?”  With anyone else, this would be the precursor to months worth of shite giving.  But this was Pads.  And Moony.  

“Is he?”  James had to immediately quash the pride that bloomed in his chest.  Little Moony.  All grown up.  “That cheeky bastard!  How did he hide this from us?”

“I’m going to find out who it is.”  A pronouncement of that magnitude was a promise to the grave from Sirius.

“Best of luck to you.  He’s surrounded by girls ten feet deep.  Apparently being the Captain of the Rugby squad is not enough anymore.  You have to have blond hair, quote Latin, and - I’m quoting here - have lips sculpted for kissing.  Although of course,” James gave Sirius the side-eye.  “You wouldn’t know anything about that.”

“Are you impugning my manhood or admiring my skills?”

“A little column A and a little column B.”

“I can’t believe you memorized the Boys’ List.”  Sirius, who had been Number Two for the past year due to his overgrown hair, enjoyed ribbing James about it.  James knew he was at a handicap because Mrs Potter would murder him if he let his hair get like Sirius’.  “I’m going to find her James.”

“And implement a scorched earth policy…”  James was pretty sure it was Fawcett.  Lily had been covering, but James had caught her out when she was _supposed_ to be with Remus.  One of the reasons he figured everything out originally.  Remus had the intestinal fortitude to reject the advances of Evans, something no man could ever boast of.  And Moony and Fawcett spent a _lot_ of time together.  

Fawcett was Number One on the List.  James spent a lot of time thinking about the Boy’s List.  Probably more than was strictly healthy.

But wait.  Was Sirius going to finally admit - in actual words - that he was _into_ Moony in a very non-platonic fashion?  James wasn’t sure he was ready to hear it.  But he was a good mate and decided to nip that in the bud.

“Sirius Orion Potter,” James sat up and put a hand on Pad’s shoulder.  “You’re named after two stars and me.  Some of the most brilliant things I know.  I’m only going to say this once because I only have one ounce of dignity left to me in my dotage.”  Sirius was staring at him with his Rasputin eyes and James knew he was going to laugh if he didn’t sally forth.  “You have had a crush on Remus Lupin since you were eleven years old.  And I think,”  James put his hand over Sirius’ mouth, “No, hear me out.  I cannot find it within myself to believe that something that lasting _can’t_ mean something.  That it can _never_ be returned.”

“Are you finished?”

“Probably?”  James plumbed the depths of his mind and then said, “Yeah.”

“I have no idea how you do it.”  Sirius sighed on the floor, apparently in no rush to pummell James into the floor.  No denial either, James noted.  He had actually wised up enough not to poke that to death like he would have done.  “Evans hasn’t given you the time of day for six years.  Six years, Prongs.”

“I dunno.  What’s six years in the grand scheme of things?  During which time I wasn’t always certain she didn’t have cooties.”

“True.  But maybe looking up her skirt wasn’t the best test.”

“Quite possibly.  But loathe though I am to admit it, I have not always made the best decisions in my life.  But.  As I was saying.  Maybe I’m daft.  But _maybe_ I’m made out of sterner stuff than you.   But if you hope to someday date my best mate Moony, you had better figure out what you’re made of, Pads.”  He hadn’t really meant to sound so serious about it.  But it was Moony.  He would have said the same thing to anyone who wasn’t sure how they felt about a friend of his.  With the potential to hurt a friend of his.

“I don’t even…” Sirius seemed to be trying to find a word.  “I think I know where I want to be.  But I don’t know how to get there.  And before you say anything,” he punctuated his narrowed eyes with a raised finger.  “I am not going to help him into the arms of someone else.  I am _not_ \- like some people I could name - a masochist.”

“I would like to remind you that Evans - _Lily_ \- gave me the finger in a very affectionate manner this evening.  Sometimes the wheels of destiny are slow.  But they do turn.”

“You’re hopeless.”

“And you’re getting kinky in your old age.  Let’s go back to the dorm, eh?  If they don’t sort this coal shortage we’re all going to freeze to death in Scotland.  I do not believe our parents would approve.”

 

\-----------------

 

_Peter_

It was in the Winter of his sixteenth year - not yet seventeenth - that Wee received a rather nondescript white envelope addressed to _Mr. Peter Pettigrew, 13 Cheriton Lane_.  It had been forwarded in a box of sweets and pants (the launderers had been absconding with his all year), tucked along the edge of the box.

In the privacy of his four-poster, curtains drawn, and with trembling hands - he recognized the postmark - he opened it.  

_Mr Peter Pettigrew:_

_Congratulations!  You have been invited to register for the 1977 Mattel Scrabble Championships in New Orleans, LA from June 20 through June 25,1977. Receiving this invite reflects your exceptional performance throughout the 1976-77 season as Scrabble champion. The Mattel Team is looking forward to seeing you in New Orleans this June!_

_On va se revoir plus tard_ ,

_Sofia Műller,_

_International Scrabble Federation President 1976-77_

It was the culmination of a life’s work.  Years of nouns, pronouns, adjectives, determiners, verbs, adverbs, prepositions, conjunctions, and interjections.  Even if he would have to miss the last week of Sixth Year.  

It was completely worth it.

After a call home from McGonagall’s office - and congratulations from the House Matron - he returned to the Common Room in a state of high spirits.  He actually found himself singing one of his favorite songs.  “Anne Boleyn,” he pointed his finger at the formal portrait, “ _Did you know I was born and raised down in Alabama?  On a farm way back up in the woods?  I was so ragged that folks used to call me Patches.  Papa used to tease me about it 'cause deep down inside he was hurt 'cause he'd done all he could ._..”  He danced up three stairs, down one, back up three to the third floor.  

He did a very neat pirouette on the landing, only sliding a little, before doing a shimmy in front of Professor Basil Fronsac. _“He said, Patches I'm dependin' on you, son.  To pull the family through.  My son, it's all left up to youuuuuuu…”_  Professor Fronsac looked on.

Full jazz hands as he sped past Gagwilde and Dodderidge, pausing at Edgar Stroulger on the sixth floor where he slid past the portrait, slammed into the wall and then pretended like he’d meant to do that.  “ _Every day I had to work the fields 'cause that's the only way we got our meals.  You see_ ,” he explained to a very disapproving Elizabeth Burke, “I _was the oldest of the family and everybody else depended on me.  Every night I heard my Mama pray_.”  He dropped to his knees, “ _Lord, give him the strength to make another day_.”

He popped up and executed another shimmy, this time with maximum wiggle.  “ _I can still hear Papa_ \--”

“Actually, what you hear is the Seventh Year Hufflepuff Prefect, Pettigrew.”  Peter stopped in his tracks and looked at Ginger Mckay, who was decidedly more amused than angry.  

With a wave of his shoulders, he gave Mckay the thumbs up.  “I’ve tried to do my best.  It’s up to _you_ ,” he pointed back at her walking very quickly away, “To do the rest.”

 

\------------

 

_Sirius_

It was on All Saints that Sirius first heard it.  

Natalie Travers, a Year Eleven Slytherin and Prefect, had very audibly said to another girl, “It’s true.  I caught them in the private study at the library.”  Not an usual place for trysts, Sirius knew from experience.  “He’d not signed it out, so I went in to clear it for the next day.  I could _smell_ it.  And I think Fawcett had his trousers undone.”  Her voice had dropped as she relayed the last.  

“I don’t believe it.  Remus would _never_ do that.”  Sirius turned around so fast, he tripped on his own feet and would have fallen if not for the timely placement of a statue devoted to one of Hogwart’s illustrious former pupils.  

“You’re just saying that because you like him.”

“Do not.”

“Well, you can let it go now.  I mean… George Fawcett, right?”  Travers crooked her wrist downward.  Fawcett, a Seventh Year headed to Oxbridge to read Philosophy, was also a tall, towheaded footballer.  He’d been off and on with another Seventh Year, Jane Hartley.  They were currently off.  He’d also been tutoring Moony in Chemistry since the start of term, a fact that he had only admitted under threat of torture.

Something in Sirius’ face must have alerted the gossips as to his intent as he bore down on them and they scattered as if their lives depended on it.  He almost caught Travers, but she ran Track and evaded him at the last minute.  So, he stood in the hallway, under the gaze of students headed to class or study periods, and decided he must have misheard.  Lupin, his Moony, would never have given Fawcett a first glance, let alone a second.  And he would _certainly_ not be in a room where Fawcett’s pants were undone.  Remus would have _told_ him.  

 _Of course_ , he reminded himself.   _He never told me_ \- us- _about the girl he was seeing, either._

He gave a couple of Third Years a very watered down version of the Black smile (patented at Hogwarts and visible on any gossip mag who’d gotten close enough for a snap) before setting off again.  He had double history with all the Marauders.  He hated the class, Binns ruining even the exciting parts (warfare), but it was the only class when they were all together.  So he was always on time.

He’d just turned the corner when he saw Remus himself.  Who was concentrating on a conversation with the aforementioned Fawcett.  Remus had his _I am very interested in what you are saying_ face on, sharp green eyes and relaxed mouth.  He and Fawcett were of a like height, but Fawcett was considered (by an informal poll conducted by anonymous student bodies) the more handsome.  Just above Sirius and not surprisingly ahead of James Potter.  James had lost his shite when he’d heard about it: _I am VERY fanciable_.   _I’m a fucking rugby player!_  Remus had, as per usual, made no comment on the issue.  Sirius had every intention of interrupting their conversation and was in the process of doing so when he witnessed something that stopped him in his tracks.

Fawcett took Remus’ hands, just the fingertips, and squeezed them.  Innocent enough.  But he held them for a beat longer than strictly necessary.

And Remus blushed.  Sirius had seen Remus blush on many occasions, but none of them in public.  He was the most buttoned-up person he had ever liked the company of.  Resuming his march towards Remus, he threw his left arm around Remus’ waist and turned to him, “We have to get to class, my love.”

Remus, who was used to such displays, wound his right arm around Sirius’ shoulders.  It was almost reflexive at this point.  “See you later?”  It was patently directed to Fawcett and not Sirius who was inching closer to a headlock he didn’t see coming.  

“Of course.”  There was something in the way the retreating Slytherin said it that set off bells in Sirius’ head.  Bells that suddenly dimmed when Remus closed the noose on his neck.

“You arse.”  There was indulgent affection in Remus’ pejorative and Sirius pretended he could not easily escape, letting Remus walk him into History with his head in his armpit.  It was a measure of precedence that neither James nor Peter commented on the entrance.  

Remus released Sirius to James’ keeping - they always sat together - and Sirius watched Remus take his seat next to Peter directly in front of him.  He took a moment to compose himself as his hair had been mussed.  

Double history did not disappoint on the boring front and Sirius occupied himself by looking at the back of Remus’ head and playing tic tac toe with James, who was also not taking notes.  Both Remus and Peter _were_ but were also susceptible to bribery.  Remus pulled out a piece of paper from his front pocket.  His eyes shifted, as if checking for surveillance, and then opened it.  This, of course, instantly caught Sirius’ attention.  As did most things that Remus did and Sirius was not privy to.

It took him a moment to figure out what it was.  Only a few lines of text and what - from craning sideways - appeared to be a watercolor he couldn’t quite make out.  Sirius got a lucky break when the girl across from Remus, Sally Harrison, dropped her biro and he leaned over to get it for her.  Sirius was certain this was a ruse as she liked Remus.  The watercolor was of … a shirtless Remus smiling the lopsided way he did.  A bloody good likeness.  Every capillary in Sirius’ body expanded and fizzled all at once.  His stomach dropped.  He just knew.  He knew that Fawcett had given it to him.  And how did Fawcett know the content look on Remus’ face?  Or the familiar scar that ran along Remus’ right rib cage (compliments of a fence climbing incident that went horribly wrong)?  

He’d gone so hot that even James seemed to notice.   _What’s wrong with you?  Your face’s gone all red,_ Prongs had written in his almost illegible hand.  

Taking up his biro, Sirius wrote back: _How long?_

James gave him a strange look, completely flummoxed by the question.   _How long since your face went red?  I dunno, a minute or so?_

Sirius tore the paper with the force of his biro: _How long has Fawcett been shagging Remus?_  Because Remus would have no more started it than admit he was strongly suspected to graduate _Summa Cum Laude_.

James gave him a strange look.  And didn’t immediately write back.  He _knew_.  James Potter, his companion in arms, knew that it was true.  He snatched the paper back.   _You knew_.

In front of him, Remus had refolded the sketch and pocketed it.  He turned to look back at Sirius and James as he often did, but his smile melted when he felt the full force of Sirius’ glare.  James gave Remus a weak smile, pushing his glasses more securely on the bridge of his nose.   _But this is a good thing, right?_ James wrote _._  He slid it over with a stupid, hopeful look on his face.  Sirius gave James a hard look before standing quite suddenly and walking out of class.  Behind him, Binns called out to him, but he didn’t stop walking for a while.

He went up to the dorm, kicking the door shut - and using the shim they’d manufactured First Year to keep people out.

He helped himself to Wee’s record player and found what he was looking for under his bed.  Flicking the needle to Side One of the Stones’ _Sticky Fingers_.  Wee’s turntable had evolved with him and would loop the record endlessly.  It probably cost a fortune.

It took two spliffs, laying on Moony’s bed, before he calmed down.  God, this was so fucked up.  So unbelievably his luck.  He had bastards for parents, a brother who didn’t even know he was alive.  He had made _one_ mistake fifth year.   _One_ mistake.  Could Remus have loved him back?  If he’d not done it?  The thought of Fawcett fucking Remus - on top of the weed and missing lunch, probably - made Sirius throw up.  Right in Moony’s waste bin.  

The Black in him - vindictive and angry and betrayed - _hated_ Remus.  He could have said _I like boys, Pads._  And then Sirius could have said _Remus, I like boys, too._ Because Remus would have said it first.  And that would have made him less vulnerable.  And if Remus said _I love you, Sirius._  He could have said _I love you_ so much.  Because Remus would say it first.  And he’d be _sure_.  Safe.

Outside: “Pads, open this door!” (Prongs)  “He just walked out.  Did he say anything to you?”  (Moony) “Do you think he’s dead?” (Wee) “Pads, goddamnit, open this door!” (Moony)

But there wasn’t just the Black in him.  There was also Sirius.  The one who had learned what a healthy relationship was, although he wouldn’t know it as such.  The one who had made his own hope.  Because he trusted.  He trusted James.  He trusted Pete.  He trusted Remus.  He scrubbed his sticky eyes with the palm of his left hand.  And then laughed at himself.  He was such a bastard.  How many times had people felt this way about him?  

And, oh god, he’d burned a hole in Remus’ sheet.  With the dying spliff in his mouth, he swapped their bedding.  Making a lot of noise.

Outside: “Is he moving furniture in there?”  (Prongs)  “Well, that means he’s still alive, right?”  (Wee)  “I just _know_ it’s my bed.  It’s _always my_ bed.”  (Moony)

He opened the window, too.  Because the room smelled tellingly foul.

Outside: “Pads, don’t you fucking jump out that window!?!”  (James)  “Pads, for chrissakes!”  (Wee)  “Help me, please” (Moony) and then kicking at the door.  “Why would he jump out the window, James?”  (Moony).  And then: “Moony, he’s---”

“I’m here!”  Sirius yelled.  “I’m fine.  Jus’ give me a second, right?”  He kicked the shim from under the door and opened it with a flourish.  James, Peter, Moony, and Glen were standing on the other side.  He knew he probably looked awful.  

“Sirius,” that was Moony.  And because no one could read - and be so oblivious to - him like Moony, Sirius looked away before dropping his mask.  

“Are you okay?”  James asked, Wee standing next to him with his lips pursed.

“Yes.  Yes, I’m fine.” He ran a hand through his hair.  “I’ve just had some… bad news is all.”

*

“I don’t think I’ve been this drunk in my life,” Wee said with perfect clarity.  It was very strange that the more he drank the more sober he seemed to get.  “I have to get on a plane tomorrow.”

Year end festivities had come a bit early due to Wee’s impending win in New Orleans.  

This had necessitated a jailbreak to Hogsmeade, where the Marauders were currently tucked into the Hog’s Head over quite a lot of beer, while Sirius fiddled with the jukebox.  The Hog’s Head was always behind the times.  So he settled on the arguably inferior _I just don’t know what to do with myself_.  Amongst other fine offerings.  Money deposited, he walked back to the table - a little wobbly, but none the worse for wear - and dropped into the booth by Moony.  Very close to Moony.  Thigh to thigh, actually.

Moony was completely plastered.

“Majorca--” James was saying, but it took Sirius a half hour to realize he was referring to the Spanish island.  And not his whale.

Moony had been speaking Welsh for the past ten minutes and no one had the heart to tell him he was.  Even though he was unintelligible to the rest of them.  As a complete non sequitur, at least as far as Sirius could tell, he leaned over the table and took up James’ wrist passionately and said _something_ with Sirius in it.

“That’s _loverly_ , Moony.”  James continued to talk about his whale.

“What about me?”  Sirius asked, catching his name.  He had been sipping the same beer for a while and was far from drunk.  Moony turned and looked at Sirius as if he had no idea he was there all the time.  His face turned scarlet, which was a feat as his face was already mottled from the alcohol.  He had the faintest line of golden facial hair.  Obviously not finding his bosom mates worthy of shaving for.

“He said you’re a git,” Wee said seriously.  And then started laughing.

“Wee, you are pissed.”  There was a soft, dreamy quality to Remus’ green eyes as he continued to stare at Sirius.  He went to put his chin on his open palm, his elbow sliding in a puddle of spilled beer, and then righted himself.  Although he had beer all down his forearm.

Sirius was quite certain that nothing had been more beautiful in his life.  But he just smiled at Moony.

Just before the crescendo of Warwick’s voice, Sirius spoke what she was singing.  “ _Just waiting for you, I just know what else to do_.”  

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Moony said suddenly - in what Sirius thought was English - standing so quickly that he knocked over his chair.  

“He’s going to drown in his own vomit,” Wee narrated after ten minutes.  And then continued laughing.

“Gentlemen, I’ll be right back.”

When Moony came out of the stall, he had put himself together admirably.  Even the belt was perfectly fastened.  Moony smiled when he saw Sirius there.  He kept walking towards him.  Sirius had no idea what he was doing.  And then they were chest to chest, although Remus was still miles (four inches) taller than he was.  “ _Rwyf am i chi_.”  Sirius had no idea what he’d said, but Remus had his chin in his hands and kissed him.  Sirius immediately wrapped his arms around him.  He definitely tasted like vomit.  

But that was not the important part.

Although what was important sort of fell by the wayside when Remus passed out in his arms.  Sirius was grateful that he hadn’t vomited _on_ him.  And that he’d managed to catch him before he hit his head.  “You know, Moony, I really like you.  In fact, I love you.  But sometimes it’s really hard.  Because you’re so... ”  He huffed as he positioned Moony into a better carrying position.  He thought over his shoulder would be very bad.

He had no idea how they were going to get back into Hogwarts without being caught.

So.  Remus was dating George Fawcett.  But you know.  Fawcett hadn’t loved Remus his whole life (or what felt like).  And he didn’t get to share his room next year.  He didn’t know everything about Remus.  His inability to wake up in the morning, the way he mouthed his verbs when studying Latin, how he always eventually gave up space in his bed, his penchant for stolen hot chocolate during prefect rounds, and that he could tip someone more than twice his weight.

In fact, George Fawcett was graduating in two weeks.  

Sirius was also, in his humble estimation, fucking fit.  He was probably not good enough for Remus Lupin.  But fuck it.

He was Sirius _fucking_ Black.  

“What does roof I’m a tree mean?”  He asked, sharing the load of Moony with James.  After having Prongs walk a straight line touching his toes.  

“My dearest Pads.  You are barking up the wrong tree!”

Wee laughed all the way back to Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Outro: Citizen Cope's Sideways.
> 
> And if I haven't butchered it too badly, Rwyf am i chi = I want you, too.


End file.
